


Cafe Ambrosia

by orphan_account



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Cafe AU, Comedy, M/M, Romance, Swearing, hella gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The barista looked up, expression transforming from vaguely bored to highly interested.</em>
  <br/><em>“Why, hello there. You’re new, aren’t you? No – don’t answer that. I would definitely remember seeing you before.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh fuck; it’s one of those guys.</em>
  <br/><em>I’d met people like this before. There were some guys, who, upon finding out that I was gay, would just assume I had a thing for them, because they were gay too, and wasn’t I aware of the fact that being in the minority of the population meant we had to throw ourselves at one another every time we met?</em>
  <br/><em>But those weren’t even the worst. No, that honour went to the ones like the elfish guy who now had his elbows up on the counter, tea-towel knotted between his hands, eyes wide and starry. These ones didn’t even give a fuck if you were gay or not; they were going to attempt to chat you up either way. </em>
</p>
<p>When Nico’s usual café is closed for renovations, he’s forced to seek shelter somewhere else – which ends up being Café Ambrosia, the quaint little place around the corner. After an unfortunate incident with the Latino bartender, he swears he’ll never go back - his boyfriend, however, has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cafe Ambrosia

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the PJO BigBang, and therefore comes with art, drawn by the lovely angelfrost of tumblr! It can be found here: http://angelfrost.tumblr.com/post/93580428715/i-should-post-more-art-things-on-tumblr  
> It's a little spoilery though, so you might want to wait till you've finished to check it out :P

>

><><><

 

I stared in dismay at the window, willing what I saw to be false.

Closed? It couldn’t possibly be. It was never closed!

Nonetheless, however much I chose to deny it, the sign remained the same. A small, plastic rectangle, the offending words ‘Sorry, We’re Closed!’ splashed across it in a garish purple. Moon In A Teacup, the self-proclaimed ‘café which never shuts,’ had done just that. What was I going to do?Bianca was expecting a video call at exactly 1:00 p.m - she’d freak when I didn’t contact her. And without a fucking phone, I had no way of doing that. Fucking laptop needed internet, which I now could not get.

Once again, I cursed myself for being a miser and skimping on the net fees. I hardly ever used the bloody thing, and therefore deemed it not worthwhile paying absurd amounts of money every month for its upkeep; however in times like these, I really wished I had enough cash to do so.

I decided resolutely that I’d just have to find somewhere else, tugging my laptop bag closer and adjusting the shoulder strap as I steeled myself for the oncoming venture.

This was a change in the usual schedule. I did not like changes in the usual schedule. Bianca often told me that I was a ‘creature of habit’ and that I should ‘live a little.’ But habits were good. They were logical, and made certain that I was organised and on time. It also meant that I got to know my surroundings - for instance, I had an understanding with the staff at Moon In A Teacup; once a week I would go in, set up my laptop, and hold a video call with my sister. They always reserved the booth right at the back. It was away from prying eyes and listening ears, and gave at least some semblance of privacy. But _now_ … now I was going to have to find somewhere else, somewhere new and _different._

Stride determined, I began to make my way down the street. I _would_ find another café, and I _would_ do so in the next … I glanced down at my watch to check how much time had elapsed. Holy shit. I only had twenty minutes!I swore under my breath, pace quickening.  I’d have to line up to pay for the internet key, and then the call took about five minutes to set up … there was no time to be picky here. Anywhere would have to do.

 Rounding the corner at an almost-run, the first building to catch my eye was the ‘Café Ambrosia.’ Situated directly across the road, the little orange-and-white striped awning shone happily, and dark wooden doors separated it from the outside world. Smiling couples and laughing families sat beneath the shaded café front, coffee cups rising to lips and forks clinking against delicate plates. I wasn’t, however, in any mood to appreciate this idyllic scene. My eyes were on one thing only – the small type that read ‘wi-fi available inside,’ dancing across the bottom of the sign. Practically flying to the traffic lights, I planted myself before the crossing and repeatedly smashed the button in an attempt to make the vehicles move quicker. When the little man eventually started flashing green, I dashed forward, thankful for the lack of cars.

Reaching the front of the café, I slowed, pushing a hand roughly through my hair in an attempt to neaten it up somewhat. As a prospective customer, one should at least have the decency to look presentable. Adjusting the laptops’ shoulder strap once more, I pushed open the dark wooden doors, stepping through. A bell tinkled overhead, signalling my entrance, and a bored customer near the window glanced up at the noise. Upon seeing me, he returned his gaze to his newspaper, obviously unimpressed.

Fine with the lack of attention, I made my way to the back of the line which snaked outwards from the counter. In front of me, a dark-brown haired girl fiddled with the braids hanging about her face, expression uninterested. Around us, people sat at their tables and in their booths, talking in hushed voices or simply leaning back against the orange cushions. All in all, the atmosphere of the place was pretty chilled out.

This might actually work for me. I could see another young girl in the corner, head bent over a laptop, obviously conversing with someone. None of the other customers paid her any heed, and seemed as unbothered by it as if she were speaking to one of them.

The line began to move forward, slowly making its way closer to the counter. I glanced at my watch once again. Shit, I only had 10 minutes left now. Impatiently, I made a quiet sound of annoyance. Hearing the noise, the brown-haired girl looked over her shoulder, eyes flashing. Gods. Surely that couldn’t mean anything good.

 For a few moments she didn’t speak, simply looking me up and down, as though weighing my worth. 

            “Haven’t seen you in here before. You new?”

I gave a quick, somewhat terse, nod. Why was this person speaking to me? I didn’t know her  – we just happened to be in the same café line. Was this how things usually worked around here, complete strangers conversing after they had met only seconds ago? The other really great thing about Moon In A Teacup had been the fact that the only person who spoke English was the barista. It had made everyone real easy to get along with.

The girl was still surveying me, so I chose to return the favour. She looked sort of Cherokee, or the like; all caramel-chocolate colouring. She was quite pretty, in a careless sort of way. Her choppy hair looked like she’d cut it herself – all odd lengths, nothing matching. The shirt she wore was a little too big, effectively hiding her figure, and her shorts were frayed about the edges; maybe she was poor. All up, she’d be rather easy on the eyes, if I’d gone for that sort of thing.

Obviously, the girl realised she was being judged. With a twitch of an eyebrow, and an almost imperceptible curling of the lips, she held out a hand.

               “The name’s Piper. Don’t you know it’s rude to check someone out before you even introduce yourself?” Grudgingly, I extended my own limb, lightly grasping her hand and shaking once, before dropping it quickly.

            “Name’s Nico.” I mumbled, hoping to the gods that she didn’t persist in speaking.

Piper appeared to be pleased by the fact that I had, admittedly unwilling, volunteered information about myself. She grinned, white teeth shining, and flicked her little braids over her shoulder.

          “Well Nico, it was lovely meeting you. I _do_ hope that we’ll be seeing one another again.”

With that, she stepped up to the counter, leaving me to do the same. I stared at the back of her head as she conversed animatedly with the barista. Was that normal for this place? Maybe I _didn’t_ really belong here … I couldn’t really deal with high levels of social interaction, and I’d been subjected to more of that in these past few minutes than I had in the entire previous week.

After placing her order, Piper turned, sidestepping to allow me to move forward. With the flash of a grin, she floated past, off to find a table. This left me right in front of the counter, watching as the barista went through the motions, tongue poking out as he concentrated. He looked a little ADHD – all tapping hands and feet, fingers fiddling with the ties of his apron, darting upwards to brush his long curly hair from his eyes. Smacking the milk jug down violently on the countertop, he snatched the coffee cup from where it had been filling and began rapidly swirling the milk in. As he did so, his hair escaped from behind his ears and tumbled back into his face, but he was too focused on his current job to either notice or care. When he had finished, he practically _threw_ the jug behind him into the sink, planting the paper cup firmly before him.

             “Coffee for Piper McClean!”

The woman herself appeared magically at my side, gently removing the mug from its resting place.

              “Thanks Valdez.”

               “Anything for you, Pipes.” came the reply, accompanied by a finger gun and a wink. Were those two are together?That’d certainly make for an odd couple.

And now it was my turn. Luckily, too; glancing at my watch, I realised there was less than five minutes left till my deadline. Shit! I was going to be late, and then I’d be dead. I waited impatiently as the barista swiftly wiped down the machine. Why the fuck was there only one person working here?

That one person in question finally chucked the tea-towel he was using over his shoulder and stepped up to the cash register.

               “Welcome to Café Ambrosia. What can I get you today?”

               “Uh yeah, I’d just like to pay for the wi-fi key. I need to make a video call.”

At my words, the barista looked up, expression transforming from vaguely bored to highly interested.

              “Why, _hello_ there. You’re new, aren’t you? No – don’t answer that. I would _definitely_ remember seeing you before.”

Oh fuck; it’s one of _those_ guys.

I’d met people like this before. There were some guys, who, upon finding out that I was gay, would just assume I had a thing for them, because they were gay too, and wasn’t I aware of the fact that being in the minority of the population meant we had to throw ourselves at one another every time we met?

But those weren’t even the worst. No, that honour went to the ones like the elfish guy who now had his elbows up on the counter, tea-towel knotted between his hands, eyes wide and starry. _These_ ones didn’t even give a fuck if you were gay or not; they were going to attempt to chat you up either way. Shit. I really, really didn’t have time for this.

  “I really don’t have time for this.” I told him impatiently. “I’m meant to make this call at one, so I’d appreciate if I could just pay for the password and skip all of … _this.”_ Here I gestured vaguely to the space between the two of us. The barista, however, seemed to get the message. Leaning back, surprised, he replied.

               “Well, I don’t get people saying that much. Usually everyone wants a piece of the Leomeister.”

The Leomeister? Could this guy get any more pretentious? Fucking hell. ‘The Leomeister’ himself, however, didn’t seem all that bothered by the snub. He brushed it off pretty quickly, and began to ring the money up on the till, right hand darting out to grab a little cardboard circle and a pen from beneath the counter, scribbling on it.

               “So, video call, hey? Who to, your girlfriend?”

No, my sister. Stop trying to flirt.

               “Yeah, she’s in Africa at the moment. That’s why I have to call exactly at one. She doesn’t get much free time.”

I hoped that the guy would get the hint and hurry up. I needn’t have worried though; apparently, even if he was annoying as all hell, he was good at his job. The barista, - Leo, judging by both his nickname and the tag on his orange apron - flipped the circle over to me, and held out a hand for the money.

               “That’ll be $9.50.”

It was cheaper than Moon In A Teacup. Not that that made up for the shitty service.

               “Sure.”

I rummaged through my pockets for the change, pouring it out into the proffered hand. As I did so, the barista kept up a constant stream of chatter.

               “You can just keep the tag once you’ve finished – the password changes every day anyway; the manager’s mental about that sort of thing. For a video call, it’s probably best to sit up in booth 3, with Hazel, you see that girl there, talking to the laptop? Yeah, we call that one the ‘Hades’ booth because it’s so goshdang dark and desolate. No-one ever wants to go there if they’ve got friends with them, so it usually ends up just being the loners.”

With a nod to acknowledge my understanding, I collected my token and began to make my way towards the indicated booth, ignoring the cry of “Feel free to come talk to me if you need anything!” that followed . It was the darkened one I’d noticed before, something I was glad for. As I approached it, the girl who was already seated glanced up. Upon noticing my laptop bag she smiled shyly, then turned back to her screen, as though her counterpart had said something. Sliding into the seat across from her, I began the task of setting up my appliance, rushing a little more than usual.

When it was up and loading, headphones ready and charger plugged in, I chanced another uncertain glance at my watch. Fucking hell! I was already late! The minute hand had just crept past twelve, steadily making its way for the one. Clenching my teeth in frustration, I mentally abused the barista.  It was his fucking fault, wasting my time with pointless small talk. Eventually, the laptop sluggishly loaded the home screen. Quick as lightning, I snatched up the cardboard disk, frantically keying in the string of handwritten numbers. Relaxing slightly, I leant back against the cushioned bench. It would all be okay. That was, at least, until the error message flashed up onto the screen.

‘Error. Unable to connect the chosen wireless port.’

               “Holy fuccckkk …” I hissed, panicked. It was okay. It was all okay; I’d probably just typed the fucking thing in wrong. There was no need to panic. Squinting at the blue pen, I tried once more, forcing myself to slow down and type the numbers carefully. Certain that I’d keyed in in exactly the same string of numbers as the first time, I leant forward in anticipation, watching, waiting … ‘Error. Unable to connect the chosen wireless port.’

               “What?! What is this shit?! That was definitely right!”

The girl across from me glanced up, expression caught somewhere between curiosity and irritation. Trying my best to convey my sorriness through facial movement, I sort of grimaced at her; I knew more than well how annoying it was when other people interrupted you during something like this, especially if the conversation was personal, which it appeared to be.

 But that wasn’t the problem at hand. The clock was ticking, and I was no closer to an internet connection. Snatching the disk from the table, I lifted it to eye level, angling it so it was in the small ray of sunshine that filtered into the booth. XX67513476. I’d definitely put that in correctly! What the fuck was going on? Something that had been scribbled above the numbers caught my eye. Written in small, somewhat spastic handwriting, were the words ‘Call me!’ next to a tiny, winking smiley face.

Jesus fucking Christ. That little … dipshit! Grinding my teeth together, I turned in my chair and leant out of the booth just enough to shoot a death-glare at the back of the barista’s head. He was busy serving a tall blond guy, but it was as if he _sensed_ my eyes on him. He glanced over his shoulder, and, upon seeing just who it was staring him down, gave a wink so exaggerated it was clearly visible over the distance that separated us.

Seething, I turned away. It was now … seven minutes too late! Bloody fucking little elf child! With a hiss, I flipped over the tag, to find that the password, had, in fact, been written on the back the entire time. Cursing myself for not figuring this out earlier, I stabbed at the laptop’s keyboard, angrily punching in the code. L18hTnin8 The1f … what sort of shitty place was this? This time, I was met by a happy little filling of connection bars and a little green tick hovering above them. Grabbing my headphones with a grateful sigh, I swiftly pulled them over my ears, fingers moving to click on the little ‘skype’ button. Bianca was still online. Good – she had waited for me. Even though I was 11 minutes late.

As soon as the connection was made, Bianca’s face appeared, filling the screen. Shrinking back a little at the sight, I couldn’t help but wince.  She was positively _furious_ : and an angry Bianca is not a Bianca you want to cross. People had been known to break down in tears when faced with her rage-filled visage.

               “Where have you been!” she shrieked. “Nico di Angelo! You are terribly, horribly late! You know the only reason I’m letting you live by yourself is because I believed you were trustworthy, and this is how you repay me? I should come down there right now and –“ I had half pulled his headphones away from my ears when she started, wincing. Bianca’s brain finally caught up with her voice, and, realising that she was potentially endangering her little brothers’ physical wellbeing, quietened a little.

               “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled; I’m sure you have a very good reason for being late. It’s just, well, I worry about you, alright?”

I knew that all too well. Bianca was _super_ overprotective –Dad had left the two of us alone with Mom, just after I was born. Mom had looked after us till I was ten, when she’d been killed in a freak lightning storm, leaving the two of us alone in the world. One chance in a million of being hit by lightning, and it had to be her - if there was actually a god somewhere out there, he really had it in for us.

After our mother’s death, Bianca and I had been taken in by the Lotus Orphanage, a house for unwanted children, run by the state. It felt like we’d spent decades in that hell house, most likely because I was only five years old; but as soon as Bianca was a legal adult, she’d moved the of us into our own flat, using the money that their mother had left. We’d lived there for the past three years – until she had joined some crazy girls-only wildlife conservation group. They called themselves ‘The Daughters of Artemis,’ and had got it into their heads that it was their life’s purpose to save the earth from humanity. Bianca decided that she wanted to travel to Africa with them and save lions, or whatever animal it was that had ended up endangered this week. I could see how much this meant to her, and had done my best to convince her to go – especially since she’d been real grumpy in the weeks leading up to it. It took a while and a lot of assurances, but eventually she had packed up her bags and headed on out, leaving strict instructions on how I needed to look after myself, and to video-call that Thursday. She’d been over there for eight months now, with three still to go, and, in my mind anyway, it seemed that she worried more about _me_ than the zebras.

I let the headphones snap back, curling my hands in my lap.

               “No, no. It’s fine – I deserve to be yelled at. Apparently the problem with depending on a café where no-one speaks English as their first language is a bad idea; they can’t exactly tell you when they’re going to be closed.” Bianca looked interested, leaning forward until her dark brown hair swung and brushed against the camera.

               “Oh? So it _does_ shut?”

               “Apparently.” I sighed. “That’s how I ended up in _this_ place.” Gesturing around, I managed to draw the attention of the girl who sat at the seat across the booth. She glanced up, golden eyes catching mine momentarily, before she looked awkwardly back to her computer screen, saying something to the person on the other end of her line.

My sister peered to the side of the screen, as though she could look around with me.

               “I thought the seats didn’t look _quite_ as purple. Is it any good?”

               “Mmm.” I gave a noncommittal reply. “It’s alright … though not very well staffed. There’s only one person running counter, and a heap of customers; that’s why it took me a while.” I didn’t mention the fact that that one person had wasted a fair amount of time trying to get into my pants. I would spare her the ugly details.        

“Well, I suppose I can forgive you entirely then; you did a pretty good job, all things considered.” After that, we chatted about menial things; grocery bills, how Bianca and her ‘sisters’ had picketed a lion hunt and stopped it going ahead, the fact that I still hadn’t purchased a new mobile phone, and was it really even worth it? Eventually, however, the question I had been dreading was brought up.

               “So, you’re alright, living on your own?”

We broached this topic every week, and every week my answers were the same. Yes, I was fine, no, I wasn’t lonely, yes, I was eating properly and looking after myself, no, I hadn’t managed to find a job yet.

               “There’s still enough money in the account?” Bianca probed.

               “Yes, yes of course. I try to use it sparingly.”

I hoped my blush wasn’t obvious. Bianca had a sixth sense for lies, and my current situation would be a little more than embarrassing to explain. Apparently, her telepathy didn’t work as well over long distance; she simply nodded, satisfied by this answer, leaving me feeling incredibly guilty that I couldn’t tell her the truth.

               “Well, I guess that’s all for this week.” her voice broke into my thoughts. “I’ve got to go now; we’re meant to be investigating a report into the mistreatment of elephants at a safari park. I’m sorry that I have to rush off, but it was lovely seeing you!”

               “It was.” I had to agree. Even if Bianca was overprotective and always asked the same questions, I knew she truly cared for me.. “Same time next week?”

               “Definitely.” my sister grinned at me. “Even saving the world can wait for you, little brother. See you then!”

               “Yeah. Of course.”

And with that, she blinked out of existence.

With a yawn and a stretch, I slumped against the cushiony goodness of the seat, knocking my headphones from ears to shoulders. Across the booth, the other girl was still animatedly engaged in her conversation. Apparently whoever she was talking to didn’t have any restrictions on time.

I shoved my stuff back into the laptop bag, not bothering to remove the headphones from my neck, simply pushing the cord end into a jacket pocket. Grabbing the strap, I levered myself upwards, sliding from the booth. The girl looked up at my movement, offering a shy smile before ducking her head once more. See, that was more my type of person.Quiet, shy. and not overly friendly. Though, admittedly, that could just be because she was busy.

Sighing, I started towards the door, only to be halted by a shout of “Hey, you! No, not you Jason. Yes, you there, the attractive-yet-slightly-emo one!” Every single eye in the café was now on me. Grimacing, I spun on to face the shouter. It was (of course) none other than my new best friend, Mr. Persistent Barista.

               “What?” I growled.

               “Yeah, I didn’t quite catch your name!?”

There was no way I was going to tell him. I didn’t even know the kid – I had no obligation to do so. And yet … everyone was watching, waiting. That Piper girl was sitting at a table towards the front, paperback in hand and a smirk dancing across her lips.

               “Go on, tell him.” she called sweetly.

Yeah, she was definitely also making the ‘new favourite people’ list.

However, I couldn’t do anything but as she asked. Everyone was expecting it.

               “It’s Nico.” I grumbled.

               “Huh? What was that? I can’t quite hear you! Speak up, please!” came the answering shout.

               “Bloody fucking hell, my name’s Nico di Angelo, alright? Geez, can’t a guy even make a fucking video call without people breathing down his neck!?”

It ended up coming out a little louder, and a little less age appropriate, than intended. I wasn’t going to back down, however. Spinning, I stalked past the watching faces, as girls tittered behind their hands to one another and boys laughed openly. The motherfucking barista needed to leave me the fuck alone. What did a guy have to do to get a little peace around here? Reaching the door, I took ahold of the handle with a death grip. Wrenching it open, the little bell tinkling above my head really did nothing for the atmosphere.

               “Please come again!” a voice called. I didn’t bother to turn around to check who it was; there was no need to. Fuming, I started off down the street, in the direction of my apartment block.

><><><

 

Even the walk back home wasn’t long enough for me to cool off completely. Muttering angrily, I stomped up the stairs, stopping before the door to fumble for the keys.

               “Bloody barista … why the fuck couldn’t he just leave me alone … needs to get a life …”

Roughly pushing open the door, I stepped inside, leaving it to slam behind me. Dropping my laptop bag to the ground, I sighed deeply. Home always calmed me down. Just the feeling of _being_ here, the comfort of being able to throw stuff everywhere without anyone getting irritated or moving it. I was forced to admit – though not to her - that it had gotten even better since Bianca had left …

Toeing off my converse, I kicked them to the side, padding with sock-clad feet into the dining room. I shrugged off my jacket, chucking it onto a pile of dirty washing that lay in wait next to the couch, ready to snag the feet of any unsuspecting visitor. Well it would be, anyway, if I ever actually _had_ any visitors. Which I didn’t. The only reason anyone voluntarily came into this apartment was because they lived here; visitors were neither invited nor encouraged. Though, admittedly, there wasn’t anyone else who I wanted around.

 Well, of course, that was apart from …

A warm pair of arms wrapped around my waist, even as that thought began. Their owner nuzzled into my neck, warm nose pressed against cold skin, breath glancing over my collarbone. With a sigh, I relaxed backwards, turning to plant a gentle kiss upon dark hair. This was what I wanted, for things to stay like this forever, in this little secluded world, which contained only me … and Percy.

 The older boy brushed a light kiss across my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. Lips moving lightly over skin, he spoke.

               “How was Bianca?”

               “Good. Good, she was good.” I replied, somewhat distracted. Pulling away a little, I turned to better survey my boyfriend. Upon bearing witness to Percy’s current state of undress, I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

               “Didn’t bother putting any clothes on, then?” My boyfriend glanced downwards, at his somewhat-baggy, Nemo-themed boxers. He appeared genuinely confused by this statement, scratching the top of his head as he replied.

               “Clothes? These are clothes. What else do I need to wear; it’s not like anyone’s seeing me, apart from you. And besides –“ he grabbed the loose fabric of my shirt, gently pulling me closer. “ – I thought you liked me better this way …”

I chose not to reply to that one – well, verbally, at least. I moved forward instead, leaning into Percy, pushing him backwards. One step, two, and the other boy’s knees knocked against the edge of the couch, sending him tumbling back, landing gently; but only seconds later he was pinned, as I leant down to firmly press a kiss against his lips.

Now it was Percy being unco-operative, turning his head away, teasing.

               “You were late. Why were you late?”

               “Don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.” Was my muffled reply, lips stilling only momentarily before they began to work their way back towards Percy’s mouth. He simply flicked his head the other way, tilting it backwards, gazing up at me.

               “You didn’t stop to talk to a pretty girl, did you? I might get jealous.”

               “Bullshit.”

Shoulders moving in as much of a shrug as he could manage, he batted my face lightly, the message obvious. Reluctantly, I raised my head to stare at Percy with an expression that was so unamused, it could have belonged to Queen Victoria.

               “What?”

               “C’mon, just tell me.”

_Not again._

Percy had this idea that for a relationship to work, you had to talk to each other. Which, yes, I could see was true. But it was the quantity of that talking that we disagreed on. In my opinion, it was really only necessary to tell each other major stuff, or anything that could potentially hurt our connection. Percy, however, wanted to talk about _everything._ What I’d eaten for lunch, the absurdity of the current price of vegetables, why the sky was blue… you name it, and he could most likely blab about it for hours. Even compared to your average teenage girl, he spoke _a lot._ And, well … I didn’t. It was good at dinner parties – Percy kept the conversation lively while I seethed quietly in a corner.Or, at least, I supposed that was what would happen, if we ever went to dinner parties. Or were even invited to them.

It was, however, best to humour him. Otherwise, we would end up fighting, and even though I was quite fond of the occasional verbal duel, I couldn’t cope with Percy’s puppy-dog eyes. That look of his, that he sometimes got; it make everything seem almost as bad as if you had hit him. No one could stand against it; not teenage girls, not brawny lumberjacks, not little old ladies, and certainly not Nico di Angelo. And, godammit, the bastard knew that.

With a sigh and a defeated expression, I pulled back, settling onto my knees, though making sure to remain half-seated on Percy’s legs. Across from me, hair sticking up manically and a twinkle – a somewhat sadistic one – in his eyes, Percy spoke.

               “So, go on then. What happened?”

I wasn’t too keen on re-iterating the _entirety_ of the incident. Luckily, however, the fact that Percy hadn’t been there meant I could pick and choose as much as I wished. So I just went with the general outline, and ignored all of those niggling details, like exactly _who_ had been  there and why I was so unhappy with them.

               “My café was closed. I had to go to a different one, and the service wasn’t exactly … great. So I was late starting my conversation with Bianca, which meant we were a little late finishing. That’s all.”

               “Huh.” Percy propped himself up, elbows sinking into the cushions and nose wrinkling.

               “I think, Nico, that you should take up storytelling. It would make wonderful use of your way with words.”

Subconsciously, my arms crossed as I stared down at the boy below, firmly telling my face to show nothing but disapproval.

               “Could it be, perhaps, that I sense a tone of sarcasm?” was my enquiry, as I quirked an eyebrow. Percy just grinned and winked in reply, dark eyelashes fluttering and green eyes flashing.

               “Sarcasm? Me? No, I wouldn’t _dream_ of it. Though, admittedly, you’re not giving me very much to work with. _Surely_ there was more to this story? Names, times, dates? _Anything?”_ The world-weary sigh which rushed from my mouth summed up all necessary thoughts on the situation more easily than words ever could.

               “The name was Café Ambrosia, I walked in the door at exactly 11 minutes to 1 and today’s date is –“

My boyfriend, however, no longer appeared to be listening. His ears had, almost literally, pricked up at the mention of the Café’s name, and now he wiggled himself out from under me, arms flexing nicely as he pushed upwards. Rolling sideways, he almost fell off the edge of the seat, catching himself just in time to swing his legs around and bounce to his feet. What on earth could it be now? I watched as my counterpart scurried across the carpet, performing an aerial manoeuvre in his attempt to avoid the lurking pile of washing. Once he’d completed this deed, he dove for his backpack, resting forlornly next to the kitchen doorway where he had thrown it upon arriving home from work the night before last. Rifling through it, he finally emerged triumphant, phone clutched in his grip.

               “There you are!” he proclaimed happily. I smiled at that; Percy had a habit of talking to inanimate objects as though they were planning on replying – it was the same way with animals too, but it was a little weirder when he was conversing with the bathroom sink than a horse. At first I’d found it irritating – nothing was ever truly peaceful when there was a boy standing in the same room as you muttering to the microwave about how it would be really nice if it just worked for once. I’d grown used to it, however. Now, it was oddly comforting – a Percy-type thing, one of his little quirks that made him so wonderfully _Percy._ The sudden realisation that I was probably grinning like a lunatic struck me down, forcing me to quickly sculpt my features into something that screamed ‘mental hospital patient!’ a little less.

Percy wandered back over, scrolling through messages, or contacts, or whatever it was that people did with phones. He looked triumphantly up at me as he paused in his quest.

               “Café Ambrosia – I knew I’d heard that name before! Grover works there!” I mentally sifted through everything that Percy had ever told me. Grover? Grover, Grover, Grover. Nope, all I was getting was that blue (or was it red?) guy from that kids TV show. Was he the one that ate cookies, or the flying one? Shaking my head, I cleared away these cluttering thoughts.

               “Who’s Grover?” I asked, assured in the knowledge that Percy had never mentioned him before. The incredulous expression that was my reply made me feel a little less certain of my conviction.

               “Grover? Only my best friend for all of my schooling life? I was out seeing him a few weeks ago?” I stared blankly at him and blinked slowly, hoping he would get the message. I remembered Percy’s absence, but had no idea what he’d been doing or with whom. With a sigh, the older boy ran a hand through his hair as he elaborated, phone waving.

               “Well, lately he’s been talking heaps about this job he got a few months ago. And the reason I recognized the café name is because that’s where he works – he’s the cook, or whatever they call it when they make pastries and stuff.” The expectant look that was sent my way made me feel rather obligated to say something. “Well, uh, good for him?”

               “Yeah, it is. He’s really happy.” came the reply. “ _But_ that’s not why I brought it up. He was saying just the other day – wait I’ll read it to you … he said ‘Unfortunately everything’s manic lately, because Grace has been super ill, so we’ve only had Leo around, and sometimes Annabeth, on the days she’s free.’”

I winced at the mention of the L word, my mind conjuring up the mental image of Leo winking and shooting me with a finger gun and a ‘kapow!’ Luckily, Percy, otherwise occupied as he was, didn’t seem to notice.

               “Don’t you see what this means!” he exclaimed. “They need more employees! You’ve been thinking about getting a job, haven’t you? This would be perfect – since it’s a small business, there wouldn’t be that many customers, and Grover’s said that all the other people who work there are real nice.” Well obviously this ‘Grover’ had a very bad taste in humans. If ‘The Leomeister’ was anything to judge by, the employees of Café Ambrosia were all absurdly gay sexual predators. Not a workplace I was particularly interested in.

               “It, uh, it doesn’t really seem like my thing. I was thinking more at a gas station or something –where I wouldn’t really have to talk to anyone that much.”

The sigh which my boyfriend let loose contained so much sass that I couldn’t help but imagine him rolling his eyes with a hand on his hip, like some stereotypically bitchy teenage girl.

               “Nico, you have so many conditions for work that you’re _never_ going to find one that fits them all. I don’t think there’s a single job out there that suits all your criteria. What you need to do now is take advantage of some of the workplaces that _are_ available. Look around and find the one that gets at least _close_ to what you want – though you’d probably be lucky if you could.’ Percy had his ‘I’m so over your shit Nico’ voice on. He only used that tone when he was, as the name suggested, completely over my shit. I shivered slightly. This couldn’t herald anything good.

               “Percy, c’mon, okay? I just really don’t want to work there. Let’s not argue.”

Sass still completely intact, Percy continued with his point, flow as uninterrupted as if I had never spoken.

               “Nobody’s job is perfect. I love mine, but it’s not perfect. Sometimes, when there are hundreds of little kids running around, screaming, and splashing me, I just sort of want to murder them. But the good outweighs the bad, and that’s luckier than some a lot of people get.”

It looked like Percy was in a meaningful speech mood. I groaned internally. A meaningfully-over-your-shit Percy was the worst kind of Percy there was. Mentally preparing to switch to another channel and block out the deep conversation that was sure to follow, I let my eyes glaze over and breathing slow.

               “But I’m not going to turn this into a speech because you’re probably already tuned out and also, I don’t know, I guess I’m just not really that deep when I think about it, but yeah, just try it maybe? For me?” So maybe there hadn’t been a giant speech, but potentially, that was worse. Understanding-Percy was even more dangerous than any other Percy. Understanding-Puppy-Eyed-Percy? He was deadly. No-one could stand against him.  _No-one._

I gave a sigh and ran my fingers through my hair. Bloody hell, this was why I never won arguments. With a world-weary sigh, shoulders slumping, I gave in to the inevitable.

               “Fine.  I’ll call about an application tomorrow. But if I don’t get it, you have to promise to drop the job topic. Alright?” With a 50 watt grin, and a wink that was tiptoeing along the borderline of tempting death, Percy replied.

               “Of course. When have I ever not kept my word?”

><><><

 The café looked a lot more threatening than it had three days ago. The bright orange of the sign had a blood-red tinge in the light of the setting sun, and almost all the tables were deserted. Shadows seemed to stretch across the pavement, beckoning, drawing me closer. Hoping to the gods that ‘the Leomeister’ wasn’t running ship today, I firmly pushed the door open, and stepped across the threshold. The jingling bell that accompanied me seemed like a death toll, counting down the moments till my execution. And as the head behind the counter turned, a ghastly grin splattered across its terrifying visage, I realised I already knew the executioner.

Brown eyes shining, he looked me up and down, nodding appreciatively.

               “So you’re back already. Knew you wouldn’t be able to restrain your feelings for me much longer. The suit’s a nice touch, by the way.” He flipped the tea towel over his shoulder and leaned across the counter, raising an eyebrow.

               “Well, go on then. Don’t be shy – this is perfectly normal, for me. If you don’t make it awkward, it won’t be.” Oh, it had already moved way past awkward. I eyed the Latino with a less-than-subtle hint of annoyance and disgust, mentally berating myself to ever listening to a single word that came out of my boyfriend’s mouth.

               “I’m here for the job interview.” I said stiffly. I’d already barely spent a minute in this guy’s company, and I already wanted to strangle him with that tea towel he was always flicking around. How was I expected to deal with prolonged exposure to this? Straightening, with a surprised look on his face, the bartender brushed off the front of his apron, pushing a few stray curls behind his ear.

               “Really? Annabeth said something about someone coming in, but I didn’t think it’d be _you._ I mean, that’s great though. _More_ than great.”

Annabeth. That must have been the girl on the phone earlier that morning. She’d sounded pretty flustered, but when I’d had asked about a job, her voice had lit right up – in fact, she’d asked if I could come in for an interview later that day. Obviously Percy had been right about them needing more staff.

               “So … where is Annabeth?” I knew I was being a little blunt, but if there was going to be even the _slightest_ chance of us working with one another, this kid needed to get his shit together. There was no way I could constantly deal with this attitude.

               “Well, she’s out at the moment, so she told me to check that you weren’t grossly disfigured or completely socially inept, and if you weren’t – which you’re not, let me assure you –“ here he tilted his head and winked, grabbing an orange apron and tossing it in my direction, where it landed in a bundle at my feet. “- to hire you. So, hey! Welcome to Café Ambrosia!” I looked down at the apron, then at the boy who stood across from me, then back down to the apron. That – that was it? I’d hoping that there would _at least_ be an interview process, something which I could fuck up so majorly they’d _have_ to refuse me. Not _this._ Was it even legal? Didn’t I need to at least show them credentials or something? The already irritating voice, that I was beginning to fear I was going to grow unfortunately used to, broke through my thoughts.

               “I know it’s a great honour and everything blahdey blah but there’s really no need to be overwhelmed. Standing around looking like a stunned mullet is taking it a little too far, if you catch my drift.” Slowly, I bent to retrieve the apron from its place on the ground. Shaking it out, I held the thing up in order to eye it distastefully. It was so _orange._ Orange was not my colour. Black was my colour. Orange was _not_ my colour. None of this store was my colour. None of this was my thing. Gods, what was I doing here? Percy. I’m doing this for Percy.

Yes. Percy. That was why I was doing this. Because I loved Percy, and Percy had asked me too. Even if a little voice in the back of my head couldn’t help but abuse my boyfriend for his inability to just mind his own business and letting me do whatever the fuck I wanted. Tone flat, I asked the question, which, while necessary, basically signed my death warrant.        

“So … when do I start?”

               “Right now!” A double thumbs up and a wink further illustrated the completely unnecessary excitement, and reinforced my desire to throw myself down a well. Looking for a way out, I muttered the first useless excuse that came into my head.

               “But I’m wearing a suit.”

               “Yes yes, you look lovely.” came the reply, effectively killing any further ventures down the excuse lane. “It really sets off your hair. You coming now?” This question was accompanied by the opening of a small entrance set into the bench, and beckoning hand movements. Shoulders sagging, weighed down by defeat, I reluctantly dragged my feet across the polished wooden boards, converse squeaking.

I paused momentarily, knowing that this was it – the point of no return. If I stepped behind that counter, there was no going back. Groaning inwardly, I raised my foot, and brought it back down on the other side of the boundary line. It felt as though there should be bells, fireworks, a choir singing a song entitled ‘Nico the Lazy Bastard Finally Got a Fucking Job.’ But all I got was a quick, elfish grin that made me feel more sick than reassured.

 At least the place was clean – I could give it that much. Neat stacks of white china mugs chilled next to the intense looking coffee machine, while further down the bench sat the orange take-away cups, emblazoned with something that looked like a Pegasus, as the words ‘Café Ambrosia’ circled around it in greek-style script. Opposite the counter stretched a long, stainless steel sink, light filtering down from the windows set high in the walls to sparkle off stray soap suds. It smelt nice too – like good, strong coffee, with just the slightest hint of a sugary food – chocolate cake maybe. If I _was_ going to end up working here – which appeared to be the case – at least the environment was nice enough.

               “I’ll take you out the back, and you can meet Grover – he’s the only other person here at the moment. You might want to put that on.’ He gestured to the apron I still had clenched in my hands. ‘It’s a little messy back there- Grover doesn’t believe in cleaning. You wouldn’t want to get your lovely suit messed up now, would you? Or at least I wouldn’t if I were you, and since it looks pretty good on you, I’m assuming you’d feel the same way – “

My guide kept up the endless stream of chatter, as I shook the apron out and manoeuvred the topmost loop behind my neck, firmly knotting the ties. Glancing over at the other boy, I realised that he wasn’t even wearing his properly – he’d just folded the top half under, like some attractive sort of half-skirt, covering his trousers. Then again, he wasn’t wearing a $600 dollar suit borrowed from his boyfriend. Surreptitiously, I loosened my tie, pulling my collar out to allow a little more breathing room, as the two of us passed through an orange enamelled door into what appeared to be a kitchen. The sudden brightness of the room sent me blinking like crazy – long, open windows ran along two sides, and the light that streamed through them hit the large amounts of stainless steel and darted off every which way. As the sudden shock of illumination subsided, a hazy figure came into focus – a vaguely rasta-looking guy, chopping something up at one of the many counters. He seemed very alone in the big room, and the fact was driven home once again that they _really_ did need more staff around here.

The guy looked up as the barista rapped on the counter with a call of, “Grover! Hey!” So this was Percy’s oldest friend. Just looking at him, I got the sense that he was someone my boyfriend would get along well with – he had an aura of ‘chilled’ about him, expression unfazed, as the crazy Latino danced across the room to slap him on the back.             

               “Nico, this is Grover. Grover, Nico.” The cook’s face lit up in recognition, and he started towards me, limping.I noticed the awkward gait of his walk - he must be crippled or something _._ Percy had said something along those lines, once, probably. Grover reached me, and stuck out a hand, grinning.

               “It’s Nico right? Percy told me you were going to apply here. You got the job, yeah?”

 Carefully, I reached out and shook his hand. It was warm, compared to my own cold fingers, but firm. The guy seemed nice enough – and he was Percy’s friend, so he couldn’t be all bad. Well at least everyone in this place wasn’t insane. That was a relief.

               “Yeah, apparently so. Percy talks about you a lot – it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” So maybe I hadn’t really even been aware of who Grover was until a few days ago, and maybe I hadn’t listened to a single thing Percy had said about him, but I wasn’t going to let him in on that little fact – no need to deter a possible ally. Our moment of bromance was interrupted by a shaggy brown head pushing its way into our lines of vision, jumping so that it was tall enough to garner our attention.

            “Hey, not meaning to butt in or anything, but who’s Percy?” Admittedly, telling the kid that I had a boyfriend might make him back off, but I still wasn’t sold on the idea. I had the terrible feeling that it _may_ just mean everyone ended up worse off. Grover, however, didn’t have the same thought pattern.

               “Oh Percy’s one of my old school friends, we go way back. Nico here is his boyfriend.” 

The disappointment on the Latino’s face was almost tangible. His expression fell, and he took a step or two back, hands stilling for the first time.

               “Oh. Alright then.”

 Confused, I raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t exactly the reaction I had been expecting – I’d thought there’d be more flirting and smarmish grinning. It didn’t last long however – a total of about half a minute, to be exact, before he straightened, and the crack-your-face-in-half grin reappeared. Placing a hand on his hip, feet planted wide apart, he shot a thumbs up in my direction.

               “So _that’s_ why you didn’t respond to my advances! Well at least I know that my chances are even higher now … considering that you actually do like guys. But, a boyfriend … Well, I knew you wouldn’t be so cold without reasons! It’s okay – I won’t tell anyone about the obvious chemistry between us. But you know, if you ever need some … how should I put this … _companionship_ , well, you know who to call.” The last half of this comment was whispered into a hand phone, and accompanied by a less-than-subtle wink. I felt like I might throw up.

Grover looked a little concerned, glancing between the two of us with a concerned expression on his face.

               “Is there, uh, anything going on here that Percy needs to know about?” The question was directed at me, but he didn’t take his eyes off the Latino boy who stood across from us, looking absurdly pleased with himself.

               “No.” came my abrupt answer, as I tried to control my facial expression. “Really, _no._ ”

               “Ohhh, I get it.” replied Grover. “Leo’s hitting on you isn’t he? Just ignore it. He does this to everyone. Heck, he even did it to _me_ when I first arrived. It only lasts about a week, or at least, until he finds someone else to irritate.”

Pouting, the Latino pranced over, taking Grover’s hands in his own.

               “Oh Grover … you embarrass me so! You shouldn’t tell people these things … Is it because you’re still hurt over the fact that I’ve moved on? I _did_ apologise.” The only reply he received was a completely unamused expression, as his hands were carefully removed.

               “Don’t push it bro. Juniper will hunt you down and destroy you – she may look happy, but she can be vicious when she wants.”

Juniper. Huh, that was a weird name. Juniper and Grover.

               “Is, uh, Juniper another worker here?” Though I really didn’t want this to go on much longer, I spoke again, in an attempt to move the conversation onto a different topic. Grover was quick to reply, with his caffeine-hyped friend adding in helpful little comments.          

               “No man, she’s just my girlfriend. I’ve tried to convince her to come get a job, but she’s working in a plant nursery at the moment, and loves it too much to give it up. We really need more employees though – that’s why it’s great you’re here. At the moment, it’s only Leo and I, Annabeth, the store manager –“

               “Yeah she’s really bossy, and a neat freak, but nice enough.”

               “ – Jason, who works out front. He’s been sick though, laryngitis, real bad, so he hasn’t been around much –“

               “Grace is great. He’s hella cute too – from a completely objective point of view of course, what with him being my bestie bud and all; it certainly wouldn’t do if I was attracted to him. Also he’s got the hots for -”

               “ – Piper, who usually works out front with Leo. She’s pretty new too, but seems nice enough, from the interaction we’ve had –“

               “She’s cute too. There’s lots of cute people working here. That was one of the main selling points for me.” Leo gave an overly exaggerated wink, completely missing the ‘I am so over his shit’ look that I noticed Grover sending in his direction.

               “Well, now that you’ve heard about everyone from two points of view, I’m sure you’re feeling educated.” I grimaced a little. ‘Educated’. That was on way of putting it – though I would personally have gone more for ‘fucking over this shit.’

At least everyone else didn’t sound too bad – the Annabeth girl had seemed nice enough on the phone, if a little stressed, and Piper had been alright. Jason or ‘Grace’ as the bartender seemed to call him – weird nickname – seemed like he was going to be a fan favourite, judging by the fact that, apart from Grover, he was potentially the only one who wouldn’t spend his free time hitting on me.  At least, provided that his friendship with the Latino wasn’t based on personality similarities.

               “Everyone sounds … great.” Grover appeared to sense the uncertainty in my tone, and gave a comforting-type smile, leaning over to pat my shoulder.

               “It’ll be alright bro. We’re not all as manic as Valdez; in fact, most of us are as normal as you can get.”

With an awkward grin, I stuffed my hands in my pockets, hoping to high heaven that he was telling the truth. My fingers brushed against a cold, rectangular shaped object, and I frowned, confused, before realising what it was – Percy’s spare phone, which he had forced me to bring, under strict instructions to call him if it looked like I wasn’t going to get the job. Glad for a legitimate excuse, I dug it out, thumb punching the circular centre button, sending the screen flickering on to show a picture of Percy’s face, in close to the camera, grinning as he brandished a peace sign. I could be seen in the background, asleep and half hanging off a couch, shirt riding up and hair flopping in my eyes. Expression halfway between annoyance and amusement, I slid the lock bar across the screen, to reveal a message from Percy. ‘Hey. You finished yet? I got home aaages ago and I’m missing you ;)’

The expression definitely moved more towards the amusement side of things at that, as I struggled to hold back a grin at my boyfriends’ signature amalgamation of stupidity and flirtatiousness.

               “Hey, I’m really sorry guys, but I have to be somewhere, so I’ve got to go, if that’s alright.” Mentally, I just dared them to argue. There was no way in hell that either of them were getting between me and a flirty Percy.

               “Yeah no man, it’s all cool.” replied Grover, waving a hand. “It was real great to meet you. Tell Percy hi for me, alright? Also that he needs to call more, instead of his usual once-every-six months.”

               “Will do.” I turned to Leo awkwardly , wavering between going with my gut instinct and just walking the fuck out of there, no matter how rude it made me look, and taking the more socially-acceptable option of saying bye. Eventually, I gave into the pressure of societal conventions and uncomfortably nodded in the baristas’ direction.

               “Uh, bye.”

I was waved off by the flutter of a hand and a shrugging of shoulders.

               “Now now, no need to get emotional – I understand that saying farewell can be difficult. Luckily for you, however, I am at your service; I’ll show you the way out, so that we may remain in one another’s presence for a further time.” Great. Thanks so much for your generosity. I thought about rolling my eyes, but decided against it – that would be childish. Without waiting for my self-appointed ‘guide’, I spun on my heel and strode towards the doorway through which we had arrived, swiftly pulling the apron ties apart and slipping the offending orange garment over my head.

Hurried footsteps announced the presence of another, who quickly darted into my line of view in order to swing the door open and hold it, gentlemen-like. I wasn’t sure if this was meant to impress, but the complete and utter un-gentlemanliness of some of his previous actions made this small gesture null and void. It was _way_ too late in the piece to start playing the chivalrous card. However, I didn’t have much choice in whether I would accept the gesture or not. If I wanted to get out of here, this was apparently the way it was going to go down. Sucking in my stomach and pressing my back to the wall, I inched along, doing my best not to brush up against any part of the other boys’ body. Luckily, we were both pretty slim, so I managed to make my way out without causing a world tragedy, like touching him or something else horrific. Crisis averted.

Having ducked past, I paced swiftly over to the bench door-thing, fiddling with the dead bolt until I could successfully swing it open and make my escape. Ahh freedom. Had anything ever tasted so sweet? I was more than ready to skip on out of there and start singing to the birds, conversing with the flowers, or some other generally embarrassing action. All too sadly, however, I was not alone, and my new workmate wasn’t sold on the whole ‘leaving’ thing.

               “So …” he leant across the counter, the environment he was obviously most comfortable in. “We’re work buddies now! Doesn’t that just make you excited?”

               “Ecstatic.”

I let the irritation I was feeling seep into my tone. There was no time for this. I needed to get home to my boyfriend, so that I could kiss him and … do other stuff. The other boy was, however, indomitable. He simply raised an eyebrow, and chose to take my comment literally.

               “Well. That’s great then, because you’re going to need to be here bright and early tomorrow. Six sharp – you can help me open up. Seeing as you're so enthusiastic and everything.” The urge to quit right then and there was overwhelming, but I imagined Percy’s reaction, and stifled my feelings.

               “Six sharp. Sure. I’ll be here.”

               “That’s good. You’re going to need that,” here he nodded to the apron I still held. “And one of these.” An orange shirt the same as his sailed through the air, giving me some intense deja vu as it plopped near my feet. Gathering it up to join my little bundle, I nodded at the barista, and turned, ready to get out of here, escape, be _free._ I was out the door so fast I _almost_ managed to miss the “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow! Wear the suit again – it looks nice!” that floated after me.

><><><

 Safe to say, Percy had been _more_ than happy that I’d gotten the job. I may have neglected to mention that it wasn’t through any virtue of my own – I was rather too busy being _otherwise preoccupied._ But the next morning, the realisation that I had to get up and _work_ made it all a lot less enjoyable. Disentangling myself from the sheets and Percy’s arms, I rubbed my scratchy eyes with the back of a hand, slamming down the snooze button on the alarm clock buzzing in the background. A half groan/yawn emanated from my mouth as I stretched, neck cracking. Through bleary eyes, I gazed down at the boy still sprawled on the bed. His legs were caught up in the sheets, shirtless chest half peeking out as an attractive string of drool threatened at the corner of his mouth. I reminded myself that I was doing this for _him,_ that I never did things for him – it was always vice versa. _This._ This boy – he was the reason. 

The drool dribbled onto my pillowcase.

With a sigh, I forced myself to my feet, to stumble over to the window and twitch the curtain aside. It wasn’t even _light_ yet. 5:30 am was not a time when any sane person chose to rise. Snagging the orange shirt and apron from the floor, where they had landed last night, I added a pair of jeans that smelt vaguely fresh-ish and were black enough to indicate that they were mine and not my boyfriends’ – I’d made that mix up once before, and spent the entire day holding my waistband because of it.

Then it was pull them on and out the door and down the street, headphones on and apron stuffed into my backpack. I stepped through the door at _exactly_ six, ignoring the blue ‘closed’ sign, as the little bell ‘ting-a-ling-linging’ed it’s welcome. My new bestie was already there, wiping down benches that seemed perfectly spotless to me, but were apparently not up to standard. His head jerked upwards at my arrival, and a blinding grin added to my already mounting joy.

               “Hey! Good to see ya, buddy. Come, come, you can throw your stuff back here and then get started.” He beckoned me behind the counter, showing me the stuffy little room where I could dump my backpack. I pulled my apron on and headed back out, ready and eager to learn. Well, that was how I tried to look, at least.

My workmate chattered as he showed me where everything was, pointing out the taps and illustrating how to correctly use the cash register. It wasn’t about anything specific – sometimes it included information that might actually relate to me, such as “Annabeth’s coming in today, so you’ll get to meet her and she’ll fill out all the paperwork so you can get paid.” (I’d been wondering about that) but, more often than not, it was just mindless nattering. Obviously no one had ever taught him the ‘silence is golden’ rule. I vaguely wondered if, like Percy, he was the sort of person who talked to inanimate objects. I had a suspicion that yes, he might be – however I felt it would be more talking _at_ them.

 Eventually, I was instructed to go help Grover bring out the baking to put in the display cabinets, as opening time was looming near. As I helped the cook set out the cinnamon scrolls, chocolate muffins and other food products that, I had to admit, looked _delicious,_ I wondered who in their right mind would come to a café at seven in the morning. Apparently, everyone. No joke. There was already a customer or two meandering about the footpath in the minutes coming up to opening, as Leo walked me through the cash register motions once again (surprisingly patiently) but as soon as the Latino strolled up to flick the sign to ‘Hello! We are OPEN!’ there was nothing stopping them. A couple were the first to wander through, making lovey-dovey eyes at one another as they ordered two cappuccinos and cinnamon rolls. Lucky for me, their need to check if their choice of purchases were ‘Okay with you honey?’ meant that I had a significant period of time in which to mess up their order twice until I finally put it through correctly. Then all I had to do was hand back the change and snag two cinnamon rolls from the front cabinet onto a plate – Leo had to do all the hard work.

 There was a steady trickle of customers through the entire morning – it sped up early midday, as everyone realised that it was nearly lunchtime and they hadn’t yet had their caffeine fix, but I only messed up majorly twice and minorly, like six times. I was feeling pretty great until Leo pointed out that it was a weekday and therefore pretty chilled. It was just heading into the afternoon when the bell tinkled once again. I looked up, and straightened from where I had slouched over the counter. A young woman had just walked in – she looked about early twenties, sporting long, curly blond hair shoved under a Yankees cap and a grimace. I had just opened my mouth to ask what her order was, when she carried on, straight past me and through the counter-door, to plop the shopping bags she carried onto the ground with a world-weary sigh.

 Leo seemed completely unfazed, breezing over to her and removing the bags from their new resting place.

               “I’ll take these for you. Hard morning, huh?” Running a hand through her fringe, she half-smiled at him. Her eyes looked tired, red-rimmed and bag-clad.

               “Thanks. And yeah – one of the worst. Mr D was as obstinate as ever, and without Chiron to back me up, there was no way I could get my point across. It was worth a try, I guess.”

               “Mmmm.” Leo made an understanding noise as he crossed to the only door through which I had not entered – the one with the little blue label that read ‘manager’ plastered across it. He levered the door open and relieved himself of the bags, placing them onto the cluttered desk.

A flicker of understanding hit me, as I realised this must be Annabeth. She didn’t look quite as cheery as she had sounded on the phone – in fact, she didn’t look cheery at all, just deflated. She was rubbing her eyes now, pulling off her cap and yawning. I stood awkwardly at the counter, not sure whether to move or do something else in order to alert her to my presence. I settled on a half-cough, covering my mouth with a hand in the hopes that my pretend muffling-it would make everything seem a little more realistic.

 It had the desired effect – she jerked upright, and swiftly turned to where I lurked, hands in pockets, praying that I was enough of a suspicious looking character to get fired immediately. Unfortunately, due to the fact that there was most likely not a God, or that they simply hated me, she chose to instead morph her face into an expression of relief.

               “Oh! Of course, you must be Nico! There’s been so much going on lately, I had almost forgotten …” she rushed over to grasp one of my hands in her own, shaking it firmly.

               “I swear, you’re a life saver. I was almost at my wits end, but then you called, and it was like a gift from the Gods. I’m Annabeth by the way, the assistant manager around here.”

 At least I could console myself with the knowledge that my pain meant another’s pleasure. Or not.

              “Uh, yeah, I’m Nico. It’s … nice to meet you?” I hadn’t meant to sound _quite_ as uncertain as that, but she didn’t seem to notice, turning to shout to Leo.

              “Hey! Can you get me some of those job papers? They’re in the light blue folder, up on the right. And what did I say about spinning on that chair!” She received a laugh and a tongue-poke as the boy spun back in to view, feet thrown over the chair arm and smirk on his face.  With a sigh, she looked over to me.

               “I trust Leo has already introduced himself? It’s a little hard to avoid.” I gave a noncommittal shrug, choosing not to mention the sexual harassment that was running rampant in this workplace.

               “And Grover – you’ve met him?” A nod this time, and she ran her hand through her hair again.

               “Well, that’s all of us at the moment. Piper’s due in tomorrow, but no one has any idea how much longer Jason is going to be sick for – he still can’t come in because we can’t exactly have him sniffling over the food. If it weren’t for you, well, Leo, Grover and I would have been the only ones here, and that hasn’t been going too well recently.  You’re a life saver, really." I was obviously expected to say something to this, so I just waved a hand vaguely in front of my face, as if to brush off her comment.

               “No, it’s nothing, really. I’m glad to be able to help.”

So maybe that was bullshit, but she seemed nice enough, and I felt sort of sorry for her, stuck here day after day with the seductive child.

               “Well.” She straightened, shoulders pushing back. “We should get all your paperwork done, before customers decide to arrive. That way money and everything can be sorted. I’ll have to figure out shift times and everything too … and uniform payment …” Mumbling quietly, she ticked everything off on her fingers, leaving me to stand awkwardly by her side, until Leo bounced into view with the desired folder, handing it over and signalling that it was time to get down to work.

><><><

Percy was waiting on the couch when I arrived back home, sprawled out with jean-clad legs stretched before him, as I pushed through the door. Ditching my bag, I ran a hand through my hair. He instantly upped and slank over, arms curling around my waist as he nuzzled into my shoulder.

               “You smell like coffee …”

At the moment, all I wanted to do was collapse onto my bed and sleep until the end of time – never mind that it was only half past eight. Rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand, I replied in a weary voice.

               “That’s probably due to the remains of the drink that was spilled all over me.”

I had made my first Very Major Mishap in the last hours of my shift. Leo had handed over a drink and, in my haste to get this all the fuck over with, I had only managed to half grab it, sending the cup flying, until it hit the ground with a ‘kersplat’ and a tsunami of double-strength latte. My shoes and the bottom half of my trousers had ended up soaked, and the customer hadn’t been _entirely_ happy. Luckily, Annabeth had used her ‘tact’, an item which (I had often been informed) was not in my possession, to console him, leaving me with nothing to do but mop. Leo had giggled a little, and as a result, I had maybe-not-entirely-accidentally hit him in the head with the mop handle.

My boyfriend rubbed his warm cheek against mine, like some sort of weird cat, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that I was currently covered in all manner of gross crud.       

               “Did you enjoy yourself?” I was ready with an affirmative answer, about how great it had been and how much I had loved it, when I realised, fuck it, he’s my boyfriend and I’m meant to be able to tell him everything.

               “No. I hated it. All the angry people yelling at me when I really hadn’t done anything wrong, standing around  for the entire day and only getting a really short break, having coffee spilled all over me – it was bullshit.” Pulling back, his expression flicked to one of understanding, tinged with a touch of … disappointment?

               “Come on. It’ll be fine – you’ll get used to it. First day on the job, you’re pretty much guaranteed to hate it. It’ll get easier, and I guarantee you’ll like it better!” There was a part of me that wanted to ask just how he could be sure of that, just how he knew. But I _wanted_ him to be right, and I didn’t want to start an argument, so instead I just pulled him back in to place a quick kiss on his nose.

               “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over my neck, just under my chin. Soft and light, pulling back to lean his forehead against mine and look down at me with teasing eyes.

               “Just what is it that you _do_ want then?” All thoughts of sleep disappeared, an odd growling noise building in my throat, as I pressed him backwards, until he bumped against the wall. Pressing my chest into his, I locked our bodies together, legs tangling.

               “You know just what I want.” Lazily letting his head flop to the side, he raised a snarky eyebrow, lips quirking.               

               “Well, _I’m_ not stopping you.”

And with that, I leant in to press our lips together.

><><><

 Percy was wrong. It didn’t get any easier, and there was no way in hell I ended up liking it better. Waking up at 6 am and arriving back home around 8 pm – it was not the chilled lifestyle I was generally used too. At first the second day showed promise – Piper was back on the job, which meant I wasn’t as hard-pressed to do things, but I really hadn’t counted on the fact that she would start encouraging Leo to hit on me the moment she saw me. The second day was also when I had a rather interesting conversation, which began when the manic child decided to proclaim my gayness to Piper.

 She had gazed at me with wide eyes and a questioning look, a ‘Really?’ dropping from her lips. Well. I hadn’t planned on her knowing – I didn’t want everyone in my personal life. Shooting a glare at the boy who had started all of this, I cleared my throat and rubbed sweaty palms against the thick fabric of my apron.

               “Uh yeah, I guess.”

               “You guess?” her expression was cynical as she pushed me to elaborate. “I didn’t really think that was something that you could be unsure of.”

I replied with a startlingly good goldfish impression, but I was quickly saved by the interruption of Leo – if you can call it saved when he was the one who got me into this situation in the first place.

               “Piper, Piper Piper.” He sung, shaking his head. “Don’t you deem yourself a love expert? People don’t have to be _exactly_ sure of their sexuality. Heck! Look at me –“ he spread his arms wide and gave a little twirl. “- I just love _everyone_. Maybe Nico was trying to say that he was bisexual, or that he just really hadn’t decided yet …’ I raised my hands, stemming the flow of words spilling far too rapidly from his mouth.

               “Uh, no, sorry. I’m just gay.” He deflated a little, shoulders slumping. “Fair enough.”

 I wondered why he was so obviously unhappy about this. Shouldn’t he be jumping for joy and all that? I mean, I’d just cut down his prospective completion – ugh, it made me grimace just thinking about that possibility – by half.

A hand on my shoulder made me glance over at Piper.

               “Don’t mind him.” She said quietly, eyes soft as she looked over to where the barista stood dejectedly. “It’s just – he’s pansexual, right? Do you know what that is?” As I shook my head, she gave a nod.

               “Yeah, most people don’t. It’s like bisexuality – but you don’t just say it’s black and white, as in you don’t just like boys and girls –“ But … what else was there? I must have continued along the ‘confused looking’ vein, as she quickly elaborated.

               “As in, he wouldn’t really mind dating someone who was transgender, or didn’t even identify with a particular gender.” 

Ah. Okay. I hadn’t ever really thought about that before – there had been a kid at my high school who had been genderfluid. They’d turn up looking like a boy one day, and a girl the other. Some of the students had teased them, and claimed that there just ‘wasn’t any way you just couldn’t be a gender,’ but I’d chosen to just accept it, even if I didn’t entirely understand. They’d never said anything unkind to me, and we used to vaguely smile at one another when we passed in hallways, so that was enough.      

 “But, uh, why is it such a big deal for him that I’m not the same sexuality?”

               “Oh, it’s just … Luke.” She winced at the name. “He was the first guy Leo fell for, and he didn’t believe that pansexuality was even a real thing. Which is stupid, I know – however, Luke had an incredible ability to deny anything he didn’t want to hear, even when the facts were clearly in front of him. I don’t know why that fact gets to Leo so much – he got over the _guy_ ages ago - but it does. He’s been trying to find another person who’s pansexual, in the hopes that he can prove Luke wrong; sort of as a way to move on or something. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be too many people around who relate to that – most of them just identify as bisexual.”

I wondered how Percy thought of himself. I knew he was definitely bisexual, to some degree – before me, he’d dated a few other girls and boys. But would he take an interest in someone who didn’t choose to be seen as either? I’d have to ask.

Leo broke into our somewhat-awkward conversation with flapping hands and a blushing face.

               “Now, now, I know you’re all in love with me, but is it really necessary to tell one another everything about my life? I mean, really, a boy’s got to have a little privacy around here. Can’t let you destroy my aura of mystery and all that.” His cheeks, however, where tinged pink, and I got the sense that maybe he wasn’t as blasé about the whole issue as he let on.

 When I got home, I had posed my question to Percy, leaning against his shoulder as he forced me to watch ‘Finding Nemo’ for the umpteenth time. His lips moved quietly, forming the words, as I watched, amused.

               “Hey, Percy,” I mumbled into his shoulder.

               “Hmm?” came the reply, his eyes not darting away from the TV for a single moment. Great. For once _I_ wanted to talk and he didn’t – though maybe I hadn’t chosen the best of times. I chose to plunge on ahead; maybe I could get out of watching the movie.

               “You like girls as well, don’t you?”

He instantly turned to me with an expression of slight confusion on his face, hands fumbling down the side of the couch for the remote. Pausing the movie, he scooted in a circle, until we were facing one another, cross-legged.

               “Yes …” he replied slowly, his slipping over mine, fingers tangling together. “What’s this about?”

               “Oh, it’s just, I was talking to a –“ I winced at the word I knew was about to come out; but I didn’t see any other way to put it without things sounding weird, “-friend, and they were saying they were pansexual? And I was just wondering if that’s how you thought of yourself, or you were just bisexual?”

Percy leant back on the arm of the chair, surveying me as his fingertips danced across my wrist.

               “Pansexual is when you’d also date people who aren’t always a gender, right?”

I nodded, and he looked thoughtful, tilting his head to the side, eyes wandering until they finally came back to rest on me.

               “Then I guess I’m pansexual. For me, gender isn’t really an issue. I don’t care what you are or aren’t – it’s not like that’s what I love people for. Like, I love you for you, not the fact that you’re a boy – if that makes sense?”

               “Mmm.” I made an affirmative sound, savouring the warm, bubbly feeling I always got when Percy said he loved me, no matter how casually. “It makes sense.”

There was a moment of silence, of stillness, between us, as Percy continued to brush his fingers over my knuckles, under my wrist. He spoke then, cautiously.

               “This, uh, _friend_ … I’ve never heard you talk about them before.”

I groaned internally, and resisted the urge to curl into the foetal position until he left the issue alone. _Here._ Here was the main issue with Percy Jackson. He couldn’t leave a topic be – there was no way I was able to have a simple conversation with him, then finish it and do nothing but _sit,_ or, I don’t know, get hot and heavy. No, the talking just had to _continue._ And, obviously, he had picked up on the thing I least wanted to talk about.

Damage control – that’s what I needed.

               “Well, he’s not so much a _friend_ as a … casual acquaintance. I mean, we don’t know each other very well. At all.”

An encouraging nod signalled for me to keep going, but I wasn’t sure what there was to elaborate upon. I’d said all I wished to on the topic of Leo Valdez.

               “So, this, _casual acquaintance_ , is he from work, by any chance?”

Well. There was no way I was getting around that one. The only time I ever left the apartment was to work or talk to Bianca, both of which were now happening in the same place. What was I meant to say? ‘Oh no Percy dear, he’s just a roadside-hobo I met on the walk. We really hit it off, and guess what! He’s coming to live with us next week – oh, I’m getting flustered just thinking about it!’ As terrifying as the prospect of Leo Valdez in my sacred sanctuary was, I pushed past the horror to reveal a (mostly) coherent answer.

               “Ah yeah, he’s the barista there.”

Percy stretched out his feet, rucking up the dark blue couch fabric, toes poking through the holes in his socks as I idly watched him.

               “It’s nice that you’re making friends.” He said quietly, a sappy grin on his face. Gods, he was acting like some overly-affectionate parent sending their kid off to school for the first time.  He had some nerve – forcing me to apply for the fucking job, and then acting as if he’d done me some sort of _favour._

               “I am _not_ making friends. I told you, he’s an _acquaintance._ One who I don’t even particularly like.”

Snapping at him, I pulled my hands away as I glowered across the couch. He looked a little hurt, more by my tone than my words, and I could just _sense_ the puppy-dog eyes rising to the surface. I was _not_ in the mood for it. I wanted to be angry, and gods help him if he denied me my rage-privileges. Abruptly pushing off the couch, I turned and stalked away, into the bedroom, where I slammed the door behind me. Hoping to high heaven that he would get the hint, and leave me alone, I slumped to the ground. Leaning back against the wooden door, I rubbed a hand over my face. This job was beginning to seem like far more trouble than it was really worth.

><><>< 

The rest of the week continued uneventfully, or, at least, as uneventful as my current schedule could get. Sleep, work, sleep, then repeat. The atmosphere between Percy and I was still somewhat tense, mainly due to me. He kept making little peace offerings – getting up before me to make us pancakes, watching whatever _I_ wanted to, but I just really wasn’t in the mood.

I needed chill time – a day to just relax and recuperate. I couldn’t, however, see one anywhere in my near future.

Thursday marked my video call to Bianca – she was ecstatic when I broke the news about the job, and for once, didn’t ask me if I was lonely. Obviously, she assumed that my new workmates were keeping me company. And she was right. They were keeping me company so well that I ended every day with an intense desire to rip their heads off burning in my soul. Piper had laid off the flirting when my sexuality was revealed to her, but Leo had just turned the heat up a notch to compensate. If I thought he had been bad originally, I was wrong. That had been _subtle_ Leo. Unsubtle Leo was a _monster._

 He went out of his way to brush against me every time we moved past one another, oh so slowly and gently, shooting me a sly (yet somehow, still incredibly seductive) look from beneath his eyelashes. Leaning across me to grab a cup rather than just using the ones at his side, ‘helpfully’ retying my apron after he had ‘accidentally’ pulled the straps loose,  dusting invisible flour off my face (god knows where the flour was supposed to come from) with a finger – you name it, he had done it a hundred times.

 Piper, too, was incredibly unhelpful. While Leo had managed to inform her of my sexuality, he had neglected to mention that I already had a boyfriend; an issue I wasn’t particularly keen to bring up, as, currently, the mere mention of Percy made me wince internally. It appeared that she had decided that Leo and I were soulmates – I heard her muttering something about ‘the perfect balance of dark and light, like fire and shadows’ to Annabeth, and the cynical, if highly amused look that the other girl had given her made me convinced that there was more to what they were talking about than the brilliance of the new pumpkin mocha. Her approach to the issue included a lot more tact and a lot less physical action than Leo’s did, but it was no less irritating. She played _head games_ with me, forced me to unwittingly agree with whatever sadistic point she was trying to illustrate.

On the Saturday before everything and everyone in my life went batshit crazy, one of these very conversations took place – but it stuck with me, for some odd reason. She cornered me when I was wiping tables counting down the minutes to the end of the day, blue cloth racing over orange surfaces as my tired arms protested their torment.

               “So, Nico, how have you been doing recently?”

I resisted the urge to point out that she had asked me the very same question at the start of the day, and taking into consideration the fact that I hadn’t left her presence since then, the answer had most probably remained the same. Going the more polite route, I replied with a succinct “Good.”

 She nodded theatrically, movements too illustrated, too measured.              

               “Good. That’s good. Looking forward to heading home?”

The answer to that question was so much harder than she could ever guess. Yes, I wanted to go home, because I wanted to get away from her and her manic elfin friend, and collapse into my bed. No, I didn’t want to go home, because my bed was also Percy’s bed, and lately he hadn’t been sleeping in it – giving me space and all that. Which I appreciated, sure; for once he wasn’t pushing me. But it also made me feel sort of like … maybe he didn’t really _want_ us to be reconciled? Because surely, if he did, he’d make more of an effort. That, maybe, after three long years of the two of us being in love, I was the only one keeping those feelings alive.

              “Yeah.”     

“Well. There’s not that much longer left, so that’s good for you then.” She slipped into a chair and settled her elbows on my freshly cleaned table, forcing me to hold back a glower. Patting the seat beside her, she gazed at me with overly innocent eyes, beckoning with the tilt of a head. Surreptitiously, I knotted the rag in my hands, soap suds slipping coolly along my palm as I squeezed it. One step, two, I cautiously approached her, alert for any sign of sudden movement. Lowering myself into the chair, I made sure to inch as far away from her as possible, pressing against the back of it.    

“The two of us really haven’t talked enough.” She said casually, gazing down at her hands as she clasped them. I gave a grunt that I hoped she would interpret as a response, keeping my shoulders tight and my back stiff, praying she would notice my obvious discomfort and drop the conversation.

 Oh, she noticed alright. Her eyes flicked up at the sound, and ran up and down my length. Just as quickly, however, she glanced away, thumbs twiddling. She noticed. She just didn’t _care._ Clearing her throat slightly, she spoke once again.

               “So are you enjoying it here?”

A grunt again, and she nodded, gaze darting up to meet mine.

               “You don’t exactly seem enthusiastic about it.”

Relenting a little, I sighed, slumping back into the chair. Unfortunately, completely ignoring and/or offending every single employee of this store had not yet become a viable option (though that was something to file away for future possibilities). Therefore, I had to maintain my civility.

               “Yeah, no, I like it here.”

Expression almost _smug,_ she leant backwards, body language relaxed. Her long ponytail spilled over the back of the seat, and she flashed me a grin.

               “That’s good to hear. The works not too bad, but personally, I think the best thing about this place is the people.”

Well, that was where we differed. For me, at the moment, the ‘people’, i.e. Leo Valdez, were _seriously_ getting on my nerves. It didn’t help that he had somehow managed to worm his way into my private life and my relationship.

               “Yeah. The people. They’re _great.”_ The sarcasm in my tone was impossible to miss, but she didn’t even bat a beautiful eye.

               “So, who’s your favourite employee? I know that Leo has taken a shine to you.” Annnddd … there it was. The obligatory ‘you should probably date him’ comment.  I didn’t know if Leo had put her up to this, or if she just considered herself some sort of ‘love goddess’, but it was getting more than a little irritating. Well. I wasn’t going to play her game.

               “Probably Grover.” I said calmly. “I haven’t had much of a chance to speak with him, but he seems nice enough. I like composed, collected people.” There. See if she could recover from that one. Leo was anything _but_ composed and collected – manic and hyperactive did him more justice.

 Surprisingly, she didn’t back down – the complete opposite, in fact. Leaning across, she stared intently at me, and those beautiful, kaleidoscopic eyes, which, until now, had regarded me calmly, turned dangerous. An abrupt harshness had suffused her expression, and when she spoke, her tone was serious.

               “Don’t hurt Leo.”

Wow. That was some intensity right there – I hadn’t expected her to get _quite_ so overprotective of the kid. Brushing it off, I shrugged. It wasn’t my fault that he’d decided to get all weird and infatuated – heck, I hadn’t done _anything_ to encourage it. If he had decided to pursue a relationship when I was so clearly against it, that wasn’t my issue. Or, at least, it wouldn’t be, if he could just leave me alone for a moment or two.

Piper, however, was not accepting my answer. Fists clenched she elaborated.

               “Leo is my oldest friend. I am pleading with you not to break his heart. Please don’t just brush that off.”

Oldest friend? Really? I had picked them more for thrown-together-by-circumstances buddies – unlikely polar opposites become mates.  It appeared my people-radar had been wonky lately. I sighed a little, and shifted in my chair. She obviously cared for him – I knew how that felt. I supposed that I could at least grace her with a reply of _some_ description, though it ended up coming out more like a query.

               “Is it really that serious? Everyone’s said that he gets like this, but he’ll forget about me as soon as someone ‘prettier’ comes along.” Making quotation marks in the air, I tilted my head to the side, curious to hear her reply.

She leant back, palms flattening on her thighs.

               “That’s true, I suppose. He has a tendency to fall in and out of love with at least a person a day. But you … it seems a little different. He legitimately never shuts up about you; and, for Leo ‘never shutting up’ isn’t just a turn of phrase. Like, it’s constant, and slightly irritating. I’m not sure why? You’ve never shown any interest in him, have you?”

I furiously shook my head. Now _that_ was something I could truthfully attest to.

               “Well that’s what usually makes it worse – the possibility of him having a chance. If you haven’t done anything serious though …” trailing off, her hand absentmindedly crept up to twirl a silken strand around her fingers, threading in and out and in and out. Suddenly, she stilled, eyes widening. “Ahh. That might be it.”

I didn’t say anything to prompt her to tell me what was running through her mind– it wasn’t like I actually _cared._

Not that I had to. She turned to face me, expression solemn.

               “Let me tell you this one thing. Leo; well, Leo has this issue where he only ever falls for the unattainable. Celebrities a lot of the time, or else, people who would never look twice at him. Straight guys usually, generally a-hole jocks who have millions of girls hanging off them and laugh in his face when they find out. The girls are usually stunning, while being absolute bitches.”

Well. That sounded like a shit-ass way to live. Why would someone willingly subject themselves to that? My attitude all my life had been to keep my head down and not get too attached to people, so that it wouldn’t hurt as much when they got torn away. Leo – it seemed he had gone the complete opposite route: open himself up so much that _everyone_ could hurt him. Fuck, that was stupid. Why the fuck would you do that? It made me angry for some reason, the knowledge that someone could be dumb enough to get hurt over and over and yet still let people, no, _encourage_ people, to do it again.

But me. I didn’t fit into the usual pattern. I was not a straight asshole of a player – in all senses of the word – covered in hordes of screaming girls. I was anything _but._ I pointed this fact out to Piper, who nodded, expression thoughtful.         

               “Yeah, that’s what I was just considering. Sure, you’re attractive –“ I started a little at that. Attractive was not a word often used to describe me. Sure, Percy told me I was beautiful on a daily basis, but he was sleeping with me, and therefore sort of obligated to do so. Strangers, however, did not generally offer compliments. “- if you go for the whole morbid-and-brooding-child-of-darkness thing, which Leo does, sometimes. But nothing else adds up. I mean, you’ve actually _spoken_ to him. That’s a first. And you’re gay – like, very much so, at least that’s what I’m getting from your vibe.”

I had a _vibe?_ Worse, I had a _gay vibe?_ Gods, what was this chick on? Next, she’d be telling me that Leo and I should really be dating because the colours of our auras were compatible, or some shit. Realising that she was expecting me to acknowledge the truth in her comment, I ‘hmph’ed, staring stonily at the table. I did _not_ have a gay vibe.

               “So basically – it doesn’t make sense.” She concluded, leaning forward to press her palms to the table, fingers splayed. I winced as I wondered just how many germs that had spread across the surface top.

               “You’re completely different to his usual type –“ Yep, I’d gotten that one on my own, thank you very much “- And I think that might be significant. I think it might mean, for once … that he’s serious about you.”

I baulked completely, shoulders tensing and fingers curling into fists as I let my eyes bore holes into the table. Serious about me? _Serious about me?_ We didn’t even fucking know one another. We’d legitimately spoken for the first time only a little over a week ago, and since then I had offered up next to no information about me or my life. You couldn’t be serious about someone who you hardly knew. That was just fucking stupid.

               “Bullshit.”

The word forced itself from my mouth, crawling between clenched teeth and a line of lips to burst into the open. Piper glanced up, eyes flashing, expression dangerous.

               “What did you say?”

Breathing deeply, I locked my eyes on her, as I attempted to stay calm, restrain myself.

               “I said bullshit. Because that’s what it is.”

Her anger _visibly_ grew, like a storm cloud brewing. Her hair almost seemed to writhe around her head as her kaleidoscopic eyes burned deep into mine. Leaning forward _ever so slightly,_ she kept our gazes locked until our noses hovered inches away from one another. When she spoke, her tone was soft, but the sort of soft that made one think it would be less scary if she were yelling.

               “I must have misheard you. Because I asked nicely, and gave you my reasons, so you would have no cause to be anything other than accommodating.”

Damn. She was one freaky-ass chick.

But I didn’t owe her, or her friends, anything at all. I hadn’t asked for this, and like hell was I going to take the blame for it. With a shrug, I leant back, forcing my body to relax as I raised an eyebrow.

               “It’s not my problem. He wanted to go fall in puppy-dog love, he can deal with the consequences. I didn’t _ask_ him to choose me. He made his own decision, his own mistake, and what happens because of it doesn’t affect me in the slightest.”

Her expression instantly tightened, eyes hardening and the corners of her mouth turning downwards as she pulled back. Fingertips straining against the table, it looked as though she were just itching to punch me, but she kept her composure.

               “I see.” she breathed. “So that’s how it is.”

Pushing back her chair with a squealing of metal against boards, she rose stiffly to her feet. It wasn’t until she towered above me that our gazes met once more, and I couldn’t help but feel a little cold at the detachment that shone in her eyes.

               “You know,” came the steely voice, floating down to me. “Maybe you fit in the usual pattern of ‘assholes’ better than I originally thought.”

**»«»«»«**

 

_Looking back, I still wasn’t entirely sure at what point in my life I had started liking boys._ _I knew when I had_ realised _the attraction to my own gender, but from what I could gather, there had been an entire period before that when I’d been hella gay and somehow managed not to acknowledge._

_It probably should have been one of those things that was pretty obvious, but my inability to communicate with organic life forms meant that I often misinterpreted what they said, or assumed that something I was doing was normal (when it totally wasn’t). Like the fact that I would sometimes acknowledge a guy’s attractiveness – other people did that, chicks mostly, but sometimes Jason would look at a dude and go ‘Man, he’s ripped’ in that admiring way that buff dudes got when they talked about other buff dudes._

_So the fact that I would occasionally see a guy and concede, to myself, in my head, that he was crackalackin’, meant nothing, because of course it was completely objective and thinking his hair looked pretty didn’t mean I wanted to date him. Heck, sometimes I_ voiced _these little things, and all people did was_ laugh _. They didn’t go ‘Hey Valdez, what are you, a faggot?’ – if they had, it could have been rather helpful. Maybe I would have sorted my brain out earlier on._

_And sure, I’d offhandedly considered whether or not I had the literal ability to conduct a neck-upwards relationship with Jason a few times, after the query was put to me by Piper in a particularly intense game of truth or dare. I had never really settled on an answer, but it certainly hadn’t been completely out of the question._

_Working backwards, it became obvious that I’d been suffering from a bad case of homo-syndrome for most of my life._ _My realisation of this detail had been severely hindered by the fact that I wasn’t even aware of bisexuality being a thing. For me, it was black-or-white. You liked girls, or you liked boys. ‘All of the above’ was not an option._ _And I liked girls._ Oh _did I like girls. Any girls really – as long as they were completely and utterly out-of-my-league._ _Maybe that was my inner self crying out for acknowledgement, or something along those lines, but I had a tendency to fall for practically anyone, under the singular condition that they were too cool to ever even dream of dating me. I even had a thing for Piper for nigh on a week - that’s how bad it was - until she punched me in the arm and told me if I didn’t stop making puppy dog eyes at her she might throw up._

_And that’s how it was. At least, until Luke Castellan came along; he of the beautiful blue eyes, blonde hair and tanned skin._ Damn _, that boy was fine. He was also a total douche, but how was I to know? That fact didn’t come to light until I had revealed my intense attraction – in strict confidence - to Jason, and he had realised the complete and utter extent of my gay. Obviously, he then had to tell Piper, (that was the issue with threesomes; they never worked out well) who asked a friend for advice, who mentioned it to someone else, until the entire school population was aware that I had the hots for a certain blonde._

_Who, obviously, came right out and laughed in my face._

_From there began a (rather one-sided) chain of torrid affairs with all manner of assholes. Men, women, and all those in between – I didn’t mind, as long as they were out-of-this-world gorgeous. In looks alone of course, but the fact that they treated me like utter junk, weirdly, did not affect me. It wasn’t, as Piper described it, because I was a ‘masochistic child’; I didn’t have any illusions wherein I deserved to suffer to pay for imaginary crimes. Maybe I had just accepted the fact that they were so far out of my league that I was okay with just watching from afar; there was no expectations, or even a particular desire to see my affection returned._

_At least, that was until Nico di Angelo came along._ _That boy was one fine hunk of man. The whole ‘black, gothic, I’m-coming-to-burn-down-your-house’ look that he had going on was_ really _working for him. It was love at first sight; on my part, at least._ _Until, of course, he inevitably walked out the door and didn’t make any use of my oh-so-cleverly-handed –over number._

_The shock that came along with his sudden reappearance was (very) swiftly replaced by joy – he hadn’t left, I hadn’t scared him off, he loved me too!_ _So maybe I was a bit off with my predictions, but the fact that we had suddenly become workmates was potentially an even better situation than all of the above. Now he was everywhere. Constantly around me, padding past with his silent walk, dark hair tumbling in his eyes as he leaned over the register._

_And he was gay. That was an actual first for me. He_ liked dudes _. Yeah, he had a boyfriend, and yeah, said boyfriend was probably fifty times more impressive than I, but still …_ gay _._

_I just couldn’t get him out of my head. The muscles that peeked out just below the edge of his work shirt, how silky his hair looked, the way his mouth half-turned up at the corner when he smirk-smiled._ _And I was concerned._ _The shadows under his eyes had grown, I still hadn’t seen him eat a single thing, and I was pretty sure he had been wearing the same shirt for the past three days._

_I hadn’t asked him why. There never seemed to be time, and, for once, I was sort of … nervous. I blushed when he looked at me, and had to do my goshdang best not to stutter. He gave me this weird, fluttery feeling in my chest, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was those so-called ‘butterflies’ that Piper’s girl-friends seemed obsessed with._

_For once, I_ cared _. Cared what he thought of me, cared that he appeared to be growing progressively unhappier, cared that he didn’t seem to have any interest in me whatsoever._

_And it hurt._

_As I stared at the back of that head, bowed over, the hands fisted in his lap as Piper glared at him, I_ cared _._ _I wanted those hands intertwined with mine, wanted to run my fingers through his hair. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, and have him willingly offer up answers. I wanted to hold him, comfort him, make sure that he had clean shirts and ate full meals._

_I wanted him to like me._

_And it was frightening._

**»«»«»«**  

After my ‘conversation’ with Piper, we didn’t see each other again until the fateful Saturday – that day which permanently ingrained itself in my memory. The day when the entire world went fucking mental.

 It didn’t begin in an overly dramatic fashion – I turned up at work, and everything was same as always. Grover was in the back cooking, Leo was cleaning tables and chairs, while Annabeth slumped in her office, cradling a cup of coffee with the look of one who hadn’t slept for a year. I was actually in a rather good mood; Percy had crawled into bed with me last night, for the first time in a long while, whispering apologies and stroking my hair until I was forced to let down the defensive act.  Leaving the house with the knowledge that he was still safely sleeping, tangled up in the sheets with a half-grin on his sleepy face, made everything seem _better._ The sunrise was brighter, the air was fresher, and the birds were slightly less annoying than usual.

My mood was such that even the ding of the doorbell as I crossed the shop-threshold wasn’t enough to get me down. And people _noticed._ Leo raised an eyebrow and asked what drugs I was taking and where could he get some, Annabeth pointed out that customers would probably like me a lot more if I looked like this all the time, and Grover simply shook his head with a grin and made a comment about Percy no longer being able to complain about not getting laid.

But, like all good things, it wasn’t going to last. Piper came sweeping in, precariously close to opening time, trailing a tall, blonde guy behind her. He blinked as he stepped inside, raising a muscular forearm to shield his eyes.

               “It’s a little bright out.” came the comment, in a rich, manly voice. “You can tell that Summer’s getting closer.”

This must be Jason; or ‘Grace’ as he often seemed to be called. Annabeth had said he’d rung to say he was getting better and would be well enough to work again soon – it appeared he’d made in just in time for Saturday Hell – a fact I was immensely glad of. Saturdays were insanely busy, and four people were simply not enough. Anyway, Annabeth really looked like she needed a break – her hair was sloppy, she had on tracksuit pants underneath her apron, and when I’d seen her making her second coffee of the morning I’d noticed she’d added two extra shots of espresso. In my current, benevolent mood, this concerned me, and I felt a small twinge of gladness that she might finally catch a break.

Piper slid the bolt of the counter door back, pulling it open and leaving it there for Jason to step through. As he came closer, I realised just how _large_ he was. It wasn’t just that he was built like a tank, or some sort of Greek god – he was _tall_. I wasn’t particularly short myself – a few summers ago I had finally managed to overtake Percy in the height stakes (a fact that was immensely pleased about) but this guy easily stood a head higher than me. If he wanted to crush me, I was sure he could. Maybe pissing Piper off hadn’t been my best idea.

I chanced a look her way, hoping that she wasn’t about to sic her attack-boyfriend on me, but she appeared perfectly calm and composed, etc. She met my gaze with a cool look, regarding me for a few seconds before turning away. It appeared that the events of the past week were not entirely forgotten, but neither were they going to be dredged up any time soon. 

Grace noticed me hovering awkwardly near the counter, orange-apron and all, and took a step closer. Resisting the urge to reciprocate with a step away, out from under his shadow, I gazed straight-faced up at him, making certain not to show any signs of fear. Wild animals could smell fear, couldn’t they? With an easy grin and an outstretched hand, the blonde nodded in my direction.

               “Hey. You must be Nico – Leo and Piper told me you’d just been hired. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Stiffly extending a limb, I took his hand in my own, shaking it for as short a time span that could be considered polite, before dropping my arm back to my side. His hands were large; muscular where I was slim, warm where I was cold. He was sort of attractive, in that buff, manly sort of way that some guys went for. I vaguely wondered if Leo had ever made a pass at him (it was highly likely) and how their friendship would have survived something like that.

The devil himself, as though summoned by my thoughts, popped his head out from the kitchen, where he had been helping Grover load up trays of cakes and slices.

               “Hey, Nico buddy, come give me a hand why don’t you? There’s a few –“

I was still internally wincing at his use of the term ‘buddy’ when he noticed Jason. His face lit up, and he all but _skipped_ over.

               “Grace! Hey! You didn’t tell me you were going to be back today – from the way you sounded the other night, I thought it’d be _days_ at least!”

With a sheepish grin, the blonde raised an arm, muscles flexing as he ruffled the back of his hair.

               “Ah yeah, I’m not _entirely_ well, but I will be soon – I didn’t think it was fair to abandon everyone to yet another Saturday, so I just dosed up on painkillers – I should be fine.”

Roused from her state of half-deadness, Annabeth’s voice floated from the interior of the office, world-weary and uninterested.

               “What’s going on out there?”

She stuck her head around the corner, expression instantly brightening as her gaze alighted on Jason.

               “Oh, Jason, hey! Thank god you’re here – we’ve been completely run off our feet recently, and I was dreading the thought of yet another Sunday. I’m glad you’re feeling better!”

“Glad to be better.” came the reply, easy smile and all.

After the surprise of his arrival, we settled into the usual routine – albeit in a slightly less hectic fashion than usual. Jason took over counter, and I spent my morning bussing tables and cleaning up after customers. I was absurdly happy about this fact; I hated talking to people, hated their gazes, constantly trained on me, hated the fact that I had to pretend to like people who I had never even met before. Jason, however, seemed to have no qualms about the ‘customer’ side of customer service. He was polite to _everyone –_ giggling teenage girls, grungy looking bikies, little old ladies who took eighteen years to count out the correct change in order to be ‘helpful.’ He went above and beyond the point of casual conversation, asking people about their boyfriends, their children, their cats. And, personable as he was, people were willing to offer up that information. The teenage girls tittered and explained that they didn’t have boyfriends, they were waiting for ‘the one’ – hint hint, nudge nudge, seductive glance up through eyelashes. The biker revealed a photo the size of a postage stamp, tucked inside a wallet, explaining proudly that his son had just been accepted to university. The old lady wondered at how he knew about her cats (it wasn’t that hard to tell – she had that _look_ about her) and then sadly pronounced that Muffy’s heart had finally given out on her last Tuesday and now Winnie was refusing to eat.

All this information was taken in his stride – the teenage girls got a warm, yet purely friendly, smile and the wish that their ‘one’ would make an appearance soon. The biker’s son was exclaimed over, and questions about colleges and courses were discussed. The old lady received the name of another brand of food that might be more to Winnie’s taste, and an address where it could be purchased.

And he still managed to move things along quicker than I could.

My irritation, however, was only skin deep. I found it interesting watching him, the way he could talk to _anyone._ It was a skill I occasionally wished I possessed, until I realised how much effort it would be to maintain, and thanked the gods I was as socially awkward as they came.

Luckily, the other half of my current company was more than making up for my social-anxiety induced distress – because compared to _him_ I had _sooo_ many social skills. At least I understood the concepts of a) personal space, and b) shutting up and leaving someone alone when they were clearly disinterested. Leo Valdez, however, could attest to neither of these. As he grinned at me over the counter, eyebrows wiggling up and down in an all-too-subtle message, that point was driven home once more. Blanching slightly, I trained my eyes steadily on the ground and levered the bench-door open in my quest to retrieve clean wash cloths.

The Leomeister was having none of this ignoring-him shit. Unfortunately, I had made the unwise decision to restock during the down period – an idea that had seemed intelligent, at first glance, but that I now realised was incredibly foolhardy. Valdez was unoccupied, and an unoccupied Valdez is not a thing you want on your hands.

And I’m meaning ‘On your hands’ in the most literal sense. Yes, as I reached out to filch clean washcloths from the sink, his palms covered my own, weirdly warm from all that coffee-handling. The heat was in stark contrast to my own skin; I had a low body temperature generally, and working with cold rags and tablecloths did nothing to improve this.

My first reaction was to look at him with an expression of utter confusion. In my somewhat stunned and horrified state, I didn’t think to actually _remove_ said hands, rather, just stared at him in the hopes he’d get the message. He didn’t. Instead, he chose to interpret my staring as something more along the soulful-gaze line, and reciprocated in kind.

                “Nico …” he trailed off, and if he hadn’t been so bloody pretentious, I would have sworn that he _did_ actually sound a little unsure of himself. “Nico, I’ve been meaning to ask – Well, what I mean to say is …”

The bell tinkled and I took that as my cue to leave.

                “Well this has been … lovely … but I better go clean before customers start to arrive. And you need to serve.” Saying so, I pulled my hands away, moving to turn back to my lovely soapy dishcloths and all the magic that they held within themselves. It couldn’t be that easy, however – of course not. No, he had to grab my shoulder and pull me back. It wasn’t so much _pulling_ as _gentle tugging,_ per se, but it was unexpected and I was sent spinning.

                “Nico, please, just listen to me, alright? This isn’t – this isn’t me making a move on you or anything okay? I – I’m just worried about you.”

Hold the phone. Valdez was _stuttering._

He of the inexhaustible words and brash courage. He was _stuttering._

And the reason why was … because he was worried about me?

Squeezing my eyes shut, I rubbed the back of a hand across my face. This didn’t compute. It wasn’t like he actually cared about me or anything – of course not. Everyone knew that he just wanted into my pants. This was probably all part of his plan; act friendly until I lowered my guard, and then pounce. With a sigh, I broke the ((maybe not that sad)) news to him.

                “Leo, seriously, drop it. Please. This –“ gesturing to the space between the two of us, I indicated exactly what it was I was meaning. “- this is never going to happen. I just work here, alright? I’m not interested in anything else, at all, so please –“

That sentence ended up finishing with a startled yelp, as the top of my apron was seized and pulled down, warm fist banging against my chest, until my eyes were only centimetres away from Leo’s. Up this close, I could tell that his (really rather ordinary) brown eyes had slight flecks of gold in them, and his hair was vaguely limp, due to coffee-steam, I supposed.

My consciousness had detached from the rest of my body at this point, so I wasn’t really thinking, and therefore didn’t realize just what this was all leading to until I heard a whispered “Gods, you’re such an idiot,” and the grip on my apron tightened once more.

Next thing I knew, my nose was sliding against his as our faces clashed together, cold cheek pressed to warm and eyelashes so close that they fluttered across skin. I could sense my arms beginning to flail at my sides and my eyes widening, as I felt the press of soft, warm flesh upon my lips. Moving gently, whispered secrets passed between us, fleeting and unsure.

But there was no way in hell I was hanging around to figure out what they were.

There was a shrieking inside my head as I restrained the urge to scream. Regaining full control of my bodily functions, I put my arms into action, employing evasive procedures as I hiked them up and thrust him away. With a ‘smack’ our lips separated, and the full force of the cold air shoulder-barged me in the face. Valdez stumbled back, eyes downcast and hands visibly trembling. I opened my mouth and willed myself to do something, to yell at him, maybe to punch him … but I was so fucking shaken up that I couldn’t accomplish either. My mouth opened and closed silently, and I had finally almost decided on the best course of action, when I was interrupted by a voice from the counter.

                “What _the fuck_ was _that?!”_

Shitshitshitshitshit.

I knew that voice.

That voice was not meant to be here. 

I could feel a pressure building in the back of my skull, as I pinched the bridge of my nose and turned slowly to face the furious spectre that was my boyfriend. His face was burning, whether from rage, embarrassment or a combination of the two, I was unsure. I could see him breathing deeply, adams apple bobbing as he gulped down his anger.

                “Nico. Do you care to explain?”

His voice was taut and tense and it tore me down to the bone. I had hurt him. Oh gods, I had hurt him. This was not what was meant to happen this was not how things were meant to pan out this was not what I had wanted.

My hands were in front of me, defensive stance at the ready, before I even thought about what I was doing.

                “Percy … Percy please …” it came out barely as a whisper, and the shakiness in my tone frightened me even further, as what the enormity of what I  might be about to lose came crashing down.

Eyes closed, voice unsteady, he voiced his query.

                “Is this the – the _acquaintance_ you were talking about? Because, well, it looks like a little, a little more than a casual friendship.”

Fuck, this was not going well. This was not going well _at all._ He couldn’t seriously think that I would cheat on him – cheat on him with _Valdez,_ of all people. Surely, surely he would realise that I would never do that. Couldn’t he see that this was a misunderstanding?

                “Shit Percy, you have to understand, there’s nothing going on here. That was – gods, I don’t even know what that was.” Turning towards where Valdez stood, shrunken into himself, I let the anger that was currently holding me captive flow into my voice. “Valdez, what the fuck was that?”

Silence for a few long moments, as he shuffled his feet, eyes downcast and curly locks hiding his face from view. Finally, his reply came, small and so insubstantial I almost had to strain to catch ahold of it.

                “It was a mistake.”

                “Fuck yes it was a mistake. And not even one made on my behalf – he initiated it, I ended it. Isn’t that enough?”

Rising in pitch and franticness, my tone caught the attention of a few customers, lazy eyes lifting from cakes and coffees in order to appreciate the spectacle that was my love life, to which they had just purchased front-row seats.

                “No, it’s not! Gods, this is not how I had planned this afternoon. Is _this_ the real reason you’ve been ignoring me all week?!”

He thought the reason I’d been blanking him was because I’d been cheating with _Valdez?_ This was  - this was surreal. It couldn’t be happening. Things like this just _didn’t_ happen in real life; crappy romantic dramas? Yes. Reality? Never.

                “Fuck Percy, you can’t _seriously_ think that was why. Gods, can’t you just fucking _trust_ me?”

A commotion from behind us had my head spinning around to see Annabeth sweeping out from the office, curls tumbling over her shoulders and a coffee in hand, perfectly put together – a stark contrast to my current state of affairs.

                “What on earth is going on here?” came the query, as her gazed flicked from Percy, now red-faced with embarrassment, but still glaring furiously in my direction, to me, shaking and hurt, to Leo, hiding himself off in the background.

A few long moments passed, and no answer came to her attention, so she just settled on sighing and looking disappointed/somewhat irritated.

                “Well if that’s the way this is going to happen, can you take it outside at least? The customers are staring.”

No movement ensued – the only change in atmosphere was the fact that the gaping got a little more intense.

                “Boys. Outside. Now.”

It was a command now, no longer a friendly suggestion, and even my foggy mind registered the fact that it would probably be best to get a move on, unless I wanted my ass handed to me.

Percy shifted first, spinning abruptly and storming out of the store, bell jangling violently as he wrenched the door open, earning a death stare from Annabeth and concerned looks from the customers waiting on the footpath outside – customers whose alarmed states only grew as I followed him, ripping my apron off to strangle it between my hands as we faced off, Western-style. My heart was beating ten million miles an hour, and my breathing was short and loud in my ears. At this point in time, I knew I could just as easily break down into tears as overload and explode. It would all depend … on Percy’s next words.

The man in question was rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, looking oddly defeated and small.

                “Gods Nico …” his voice was low, and forced me to take a single, tentative step further into hearing-range. “… I just can’t believe you would do that.”

Exploding it was.

My teeth gritting and anger rising, I strangled my apron into oblivion, voice intensifying as I moved nearer to him.

                “That would be because I _fucking didn’t do it._ _He_ kissed _me._ I had no fucking part in it!” I was yelling now, and the pedestrians on our side of the path scurried along with their heads down, desperate to avoid a confrontation.

                “Nico, you have to understand – I _want_ to believe you. But it just … you have to admit it makes sense.”

It made sense? Made sense?! Gods, he’d fucking been blanking me as much as I had been him, and my first thought wasn’t that he was sneaking around with another dude behind my back. And … Valdez? Couldn’t be just _look_ at him and see how wrong he was? I mean, the kid was like 17, for gods sake, and he was … well he was _Valdez._

“Well if you fucking _want_ to believe me, then do. Otherwise … Fucking hell, otherwise you can pack your shit and go. Actually that sounds like a brilliant idea. All of your shit, out of my apartment by the time I get back.”

My soul filled with self-righteous anger, this seemed like the best plan of action. It served him right – he never believed me straight off, always thinking I was hiding something from him, that there was more to what I said. And _I_ was meant to be the paranoid one. Really, I was better off without him. No-one telling me what to do, where to go – gods, I wouldn’t even have gotten the fucking job if it weren’t for the bastard, and look where that had gotten us.

                “Nico you – you can’t be serious …” the disbelief was tangible in his tone, mixed in with a fair amount of hurt for extra affect. But I wasn’t falling for it. And If I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, it was only because I knew that the puppy-dog eyes would be out in full force, and then I might rethink my decision.

It definitely had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I couldn’t bear to see how much hurt I had caused.

                “Deadly so. It’s your own fucking fault. My shift finishes in an hour and a half, so you better start walking.” 

I was still staring at my feet, so I didn’t see him move away, forced myself not to look up _just_ to check if he would glance back or not. Instead, I waited for a few moments, four, five, six, and then turned in the opposite direction and started the trek towards the nearest bar.

**»«»«»«**  

_Shivers. I had messed up. I had messed up real bad. I hadn’t_ meant _to kiss him – Gods, I had made a conscious decision_ not _to. But he’d just looked so intense and I’d just been so scared for him, but then he’d stared back at me and for a few moments I’d allowed myself to think that_ maybe _there could be something between us, just maybe._ _From the looks of things, I’d been pretty bloody wrong._

_But of_ all _the times his boyfriend decided to come in, it had to be right then? Gods, I had just ruined their relationship. As I watched him storm down the curb, the two of them moving in opposite directions, I knew I had to bear that burden. The way his face had looked when he realised who it was watching – I’d been trying to make things easier for him and only succeeded in messing up even further._

_But gods, I should have known better. I_ knew _he had a boyfriend, I knew he wasn’t interested – but all those thoughts disappeared into the netherworld when I was that close to him and my mind was taken up fully with musing over just how much I wanted to kiss that stupid face._

_Well, I’d done so now. And it had been enjoyable, I guess. I mean, it had lasted a full three seconds before he decided to push me off and shatter my heart with a glance, but I was used to that._

_I would get over it._

**»«»«»«**  

When I stumbled back into my apartment at 12pm, head spinning and gait unsteady, I didn’t really expect him to be gone. Sure, I was the one who’d flipped my shit and kicked him out, but he wouldn’t _really_ leave. We’d argued heaps of times before, and it always ended in cuddles and kisses. But his shoes were gone from their place near the door and all his drawers were empty. The dirty-laundry pile next to the couch had been sorted and what remained of it was stacked in a neat pile atop the cushioned piece of furniture. His pillow was missing and his Finding-Nemo themed cornflakes box had disappeared from the cupboard. All those subtle little signs that there were two people living in this space; multiple cartons of milk, the different colours of underwear … all of them had slipped away, leaving only me.

Black everywhere – black shirts, black shoes, black jeans. Gone was the sudden rainbow of Percy’s wardrobe, mingling with mine, breaking up the darkness. If I thought hard enough about that it seemed like it could probably be a metaphor or some shit, but my head was pounding and my thoughts were beginning to trail along into one another and all I could really think about was the fact that it didn’t hurt as much as I would have thought. We’d been dating for over two years, been living with one another since Bianca left. Wasn’t the crushing weight of his sudden disappearance meant to bring me to my knees of some shit? 

Because it was painful, thinking about him, but more in the vein of a mild stinging, a feeling that was irritating but could be easily ignored. And maybe that was just due to the fact that I was absurdly drunk and everything hadn’t sunk in properly, or maybe it was because I’d been mentally preparing myself for this moment since the first fight we had partaken in, over half a year ago.

I pressed a hand to the back of my head and groaned, swaying, I could think about the finer details of Percy’s departure and what it was/wasn’t doing to me in the morning. At the moment, I just needed sleep.

><><><  

I woke slowly, bleary eyes blinking and tired arms stretched. As soon as I moved, my head began to pound like a heavy metal band was doing sound checks deep inside my skull. Gods, that was a lot of bass.

Whimpering, I burrowed back under the duvet, the knowledge that the space next to me was cold and empty doing absolutely nothing to improve my mood. Percy hadn’t decided to come crawling back to me in the middle of the night – not that that had been a likely scenario, but I hadn’t been entirely sober the earlier, back when I had decided that was how this shit was going to go down.

Heck, I wasn’t entirely sober now. Rubbing my left temple in a futile attempt to assuage the raging headache that was moseying on up, I groaned and rolled back over, ready to fall back into the easy bliss of sleep. Thank the gods I was such a lazy ass that I never made any sort of commitments. It was a fact I treasured most on days like these, when I was recovering both emotionally and physically, and could lie secure in the knowledge that there was absolutely nowhere I had to be.

Nuzzling back into the warmth of my covers, I pushed aside all thoughts of Percy and Leo and my-

_My job._

I had a _job._

I had a job and I was meant to be there at 11 a.m.

For a split second, I considered just sleeping eternally and never returning to that place of tears and rage. The thought was quickly dismissed, however, by the sudden, creeping realisation that I had left my laptop and all other shit there yesterday – a laptop that I would need within the next two days if I was to assure Bianca that I was perfectly fine and living alone and eating enough. Well, at least one of the three was true as of yesterday.  With the groan of one condemned to the depths of hell, I forced myself into a seating position, glancing up at the clock on the wall to check just how little time I had until I needed to make the walk of death.

2.17 p.m.

Well, that must be fast. It was still dark in here, definitely only light enough to be 9ish at the latest. Mentally cursing my laziness and complete inability in the fix-it department, I extracted my limbs from the clinging bedsheets and wobbled my way into the living room, peering at the clock illuminated by a thin trickle of light reaching through the curtains.

2.18 p.m.

_Oh shit._

                “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.”

A psychedelic amalgamation of anger and panic pounded through my chest, and I instantly dove for my shirt, snatching it up from where it had been thrown last night in my fit of half-drunk rage. Head splitting in two, I yanked it on over my head, fabric momentarily bunching over my ear and wasting precious seconds. A hand run through hair and apron retrieved from the couch and I was out the door and on my way – not quite running (gods knew my head wouldn’t be able to take a pace such as that) but getting close to it. 

The journey took close to ten minutes and I was once again cursing my complete lack of machinery dependency when I screeched to a halt before the café. Glancing in the window, I groaned internally at the state of my face – fuck, was that a sheet crease mark on my cheek? – before grabbing ahold of a ‘screw the world’ attitude and swinging the door open. Annabeth was probably already firing me at this point – a severe case of bed-face really wasn’t going to change her opinion.

The café was always pretty slow at this hour; the lunchtime rush had just finished, and customers were slowly trickling out through the door. Piper was the only one at the counter, wiping over display cases and just generally being the perfect employee. She looked up at my entrance, and her face instantly morphed from friendly and serene to ‘gods I’m going to fuck you up so bad.’ Dropping her cloth, she moved around closer to the door built into the counter.

                “Nico, what happened yesterday? No-one seems to know apart from Leo, and –“

Yanking the bolt back and the door open, I slid past her, currently completely uninterested in this conversation.

                “Just ask Lhim then. Aren’t you two brilliant friends or something?”

Taking a step back, she furrowed her brow, expression somewhat taken aback.

                “Well, yes, but that’s the thing, he won’t –“

Cutting her off with a gesture, I shook out my apron and dragged it over my head.

                “Yeah that’s good, where’s Annabeth?”

                “In her office, but –“

I was already gone, apron ties still dangling as I moved swiftly forward to knock on the Door of Doom. Doing my best to look like someone who hadn’t spent the entire night drinking alcoholic beverages, I plastered something that could hopefully pass for a smile across my face, steeling myself as the door cracked open, a questioning “Yes?” filtering through the small space.

For some reason, the knowledge that I was probably about to lose the job I had hated and complained about for so long didn’t make me as overwhelming joyful as I had once thought it was – in fact, now I sort of … didn’t want to? What would I have to do if I wasn’t working, now that Percy was gone? Sit around in the apartment all day staring at a wall? If I wasn’t working, I really wouldn’t be able to keep up with this whole spend-the-entire-night-drowning-my-sorrows-in-alcohol plan. It would just be me, and all my sober thoughts.

The possibility was more than horrifying.

Luckily, the amount of time I had in which to dwell on it was abruptly cut off by Annabeth swinging the door the rest of the way open to peer up at me. The surprise on her face was obvious and confusing, and before I could even open my mouth to do something stupid like apologise, she tilted her head to the side and spoke the words that I had least expected.

                “Nico? What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t come in – Leo said you were still recovering from yesterday.”

Well. That took more than a few seconds to sink in. Valdez had called and said I wouldn’t be coming to work? Why would he bother?

                “Speaking of yesterday, are you alright? I know I was a little harsh, but Leo explained everything to me, and I can see that you weren’t the one at fault, though perhaps you could have handled it a little better.”

She – she was asking if I was okay? Had I gotten so drunk I had stumbled through a portal to an alternate universe where everyone loved me? Mouth opening uselessly, I tried to think of a suitable reply, but the only thing I could muster was “I – I’m not getting fired?”

Looking at me like I was insane, she quirked an eyebrow.

                “Did you really think I would do that? I’m a little more understanding than you must think. I must say, I wasn’t entirely happy about the commotion yesterday, but having had everything explained, I can understand why it happened.”

                “Oh, uh. Okay then, thanks.”

Smiling slightly, she looked up at me with warm eyes and I couldn’t help but think of Bianca. The words which followed didn’t do anything to dismiss the similarities.

                “You’re a nice guy Nico. I can tell that you have a lot on your plate, and maybe you don’t feel that great about some of your decisions. But I’ve seen you open up since you’ve started working here, and I don’t want you to go back to being the boy I met originally.”

This was definitely not what I had expected when I had stepped into this office. Confusion? Yes. Yelling? Maybe. Being told that I was a nice guy and she understood? Get out of town.

I didn’t really know how to reply to that without fucking shit up and making her regret her kindness, so I just sort of stared in disbelief for a full minute, until she caught a whiff of the completely awkward air floating about, and pushed away from her desk to stand and clap me on the shoulder.

                “You’re all good to go back home if you want. Get some sleep – you’re still working tomorrow, and Leo can’t do all your shifts.”

I started off by nodding (sleep – sleep was sounding like a real good idea), but the action rapidly disintegrated as her statement continued.

                “What? Why would Leo do my shifts?”

A frown, and she held me at arm’s length, looking me over.

                “Isn’t that what you asked him to do? Take your shift because you weren’t feeling well?”

The silence which met that question was obviously enough of an answer, and she scrubbed a hand across her eyes, expression weary.

                “Well, he’s out there anyway. Go talk to him if you want clarification. I really don’t know.”

Sinking back into the armchair, she pressed her fingertips to temples, appearing overcome by the amount of scandal running rife in her workplace. Taking this mental breakdown as my queue to leave, I shuffled out, thoughts moving far faster than my feet.

So Leo hadn’t just called; he’d come in to do my shift for me. Gods only knew how he’d guessed I wouldn’t turn up - did I just have the aura of a quitter or something? – but he’d explained everything to Annabeth too, and saved my ass.

Fuck him.

How was I meant to be angry now? Last night I’d gotten myself all revved up to unleash hell upon him when we met once again, but then he had to go fuck it all up by being _helpful_. Now I’d feel like a real dick calling him out. It appeared that he really _was_ sorry for what happened, and that maybe it hadn’t all been part of his evil plan – which had been my original perception. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that knowledge.

It was around then that my fight-or-flight instinct kicked in (Hey buddy, it’s been a while. The whole of what? 24 hours? Yeah, we should do this shit more often) and I made the executive decision that all this would be much better thought-through at home. Or I could just not think about it and instead drink more beer.

Yeah that was sounding good too.

Spinning, apron making its way back off my body and into a crumpled ball of fabric clutched between my hands, I strode over to the counter, itching to make a hasty escape. Obviously, it wasn’t going to be that easy.

I was _almost_ there – so close, yet so far – when Piper collared me, reeling me back in.

                “Nuh-uh, you’re not going anywhere yet. You are going to stay here and tell me exactly what happened yesterday, and why Leo’s spent the last 24 hours moping around looking like he’s going to throw himself off the nearest bridge.”

The look in her eyes told me there was no escaping this one, and glancing around, I could see that (sadly) there wasn’t nearly enough customers around to distract her from her goal. Defeat weighing heavy upon my soul, I shuffled over to the wall and slumped against it, staring down at the toes of my shoes as the cold boards bit through my shirt. Facing me with hands firmly planted on hips, Piper nudged my foot with one of her own.

                “Come on then. I only saw the second half of everything that happened yesterday, just a bit before you left. What happened to Leo?”

A deep breath was required before this topic could even be broached, and I momentarily considered the most tactful way to put this, before just launching in with a ‘Fuck it.’

                “Well basically, Leo decided to make move on me, and my boyfriend walked in at the worst possible time. It just sort of went … downhill from there.”

Personally, I would have thought that was enough of an explanation, but Piper wasn’t settling until she knew all of the details. That was a girl thing, right? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t really get girls.

                “Wait up, when you say, ‘made a move’, just how much of a move was it?”

I winced at the naïve, questioning tone. She had no awareness of the shitstorm that was raging about her.

                “Uh, well, he, uh, kissed me.”

Well, that threw her for a few. I wasn’t sure what she’d been picturing, but it appeared that wasn’t it. Biting a lip, she grappled with one of the little plaits that were scattered throughout the front of her hair, twirling it around her finger.

                ‘So, uhm, your boyfriend was there? How much did he actually … see?”

Clearing my throat, and rubbing a hand across the back of my neck, I broke the unfortunate news.

                “All of it.”

Hands momentarily stilling, I glanced up quick enough to see her slight wince.

                “Oh. Yeah I can see why that could elicit the response it did. Did he go off at Leo?”

Well. Here it was – the moment of truth. I vaguely considered just agreeing with her, but I knew the reality would come out eventually and it would be better off if I put it out in the open here and now.

                “Not exactly – he blamed me, actually. So then … _I_ went off at Leo.”

A grimace and tug on the ends of her hair, and she was surveying me with a troubled expression.

                “Well, that certainly explains the whole suicidal act he has going on at the moment. Yep, that’d do it.”

Ah shit. I’d really fucked things up here, hadn’t I. From the looks of things, I had destroyed _everyone’s_ good opinions of me in one fell swoop. But Piper was reaching across to touch me lightly on the forearm, and her expression was … _concerned?_

                “How are you doing? It was a little harsh of your boyfriend to blame you. Have you seen him since?”

Sympathy? She was giving me her _sympathy?_ Gods, today really just wasn’t going as planned – whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, I hadn’t yet decided.

Slumping even further back into myself, I huffed out a long breath, doing my best to just not think about anything at all. Making sure that my tone was even and perhaps a little disinterested, I fed her the politically correct, completely untruthful, answer.

                “I’m doing alright. And no, I haven’t spoken to him yet.”

She accepted this statement with a slight inclination of her head. I obviously looked better than I thought I did – because I certainly _didn’t_ feel ‘alright’.

                “Well, maybe you should try contacting him … I’m sure if you explained everything, he’d understand.”

                “Yeah … I probably should …”

If only it were that easy. This wasn’t going to work out, I could tell. I loved Percy – Gods, I loved him so much. But our relationship had been going steadily downhill for quite some time now. Opposites attract, but we were both too similar in all the wrong places, to have even fallen under that rule. He was a people person, I was a Nico-person. He liked being involved and participating, while I preferred sleeping on the sidelines. And we were both too bloody stubborn to admit that the others way might be right sometimes.

                “Ah, well. I should probably … go now.  Go sleep, or whatever …” letting my sentence trail off, I hoped she would get the hint and move out of my path.

Luckily, her curiosity seemed to be sated (for the time being, at least), and she slipped swiftly aside, enabling me to make my escape, thanking the heavens that I hadn’t run into Leo – obviously there was at least _someone_ up there who loved me. 

From there it was out the doorway onto the curb, pulling my apron off as I started the walk back to my large, lonely apartment.

Maybe Piper had been right (Gods, even considering it made me shudder) and I should … talk to Percy. Because even if this _wasn’t_ going to work out, (did I even want it to? I couldn’t decide) one fact that I knew for certain was that I still wanted to be his friend, at least.

Shuffling into my hallway, fumbling for a key and twisting it in the lock, I rubbed the spot just above my right eyebrow that always ached the worst when I had a headache – it was as though a tiny man had set up camp inside my skull, and was drilling into that point in particular with his tiny little pickaxe.

Yep, there was the hangover-insanity setting in. Maybe all of this was just after-alcohol delusions. Percy and I would work this out – we’d fought before, and it always ended up alright. Because we loved one another … didn’t we? Ugh, thinking hurt.               

There was only one way to figure out just what I was doing and where this was all going from here – and that was to talk to Percy, loathe as I was to admit that fact. Groaning internally, I forced myself to accept that, waiting a few moment for the implications to set in. This meant – this meant that I had to _call_ him.

I didn’t have a phone. I had absolutely zero ways of contacting him. For once, I wished I’d taken a piece of Bianca’s advice and stopped acting like I was living in the 70s.

Slumping down onto the couch, I drooped against the arm, head resting against cold leather.

He had really left.

He was really gone.

Closing my eyes, just for a moment, I tried to think of a way that this could be fixed, remedied, solved. None came to mind, so I let my thoughts go blank, and drifted down into the blissful blackness that sleep brought.

><><><  

When I opened my eyes again, it was dark, and the crook in my neck screamed to me that I’d been asleep for longer than the originally intended time. Stretching, arms straining above my head with a yawn, I rubbed a palm above my collarline, attempting to disperse the knot that had gathered there. My headache had subsided somewhat, but it was still tangible at the edge of my senses, watching, waiting for a moment to strike.

Levering myself to my feet with a sigh, I scrunched my eyes shut, only dragging them open once more to peer at the clock on the wall. It was too dark to see the hands from this distance, so, shuffling closer, I repeated the action.

10.35 p.m.

Gods, I’d slept for a solid eight hours. That was some hangover. Speaking of hangovers, I really needed a beer. 

Dragging my feet, state still somewhat trance-like, I made my way across to the fridge. Cracking the door open, I winced at the sudden light, filtering throughout the apartment as I peered into the appliance. The dregs of a carton of orange juice, a block of cheese, that bottle of mayonnaise that had been in there since Bianca left, a half-eaten block of chocolate, a bottle of milk. All the necessary, dairy-based products. 

Grabbing for the chocolate and milk, I knocked the door shut. I knew I was going to be disappointed as soon as my hand closed around the milk – it was far too light to contain much. Shaking it a little, my suspicions were confirmed – there was the whole of a millilitre left.

That would have been Percy; he didn’t like throwing out _anything,_ even if it was so little that it was never going to get used.

Scowling at the memory, I chucked the carton onto the bench, and pulled back the wrapper on the chocolate, breaking off a good, healthy, three rows. Snacking on the sugar-filled goodness, I wondered what to do now.  There was no Percy to entertain me, and he’d taken all of his movies with him. I couldn’t just watch TV, because I’d been too lazy to keep paying the network fee.

I could sleep more, I guessed – but I’d managed to catch up on an entire weeks’ worth of sleep in the past 24 hours.

What else was there?

Well there was – I could – I could _go out._ Like with people and drinks and music.

Which, admittedly, would most likely turn into me getting really drunk alone in a bar, but hey, that could still be an enjoyable pastime.

Glancing down at my shirt (the one I’d been wearing for the past three days), and running a hand through my hair (it was knotted and greasy) I figured that it would probably be best to shower and change – sure, the barkeeper at Olympus didn’t really look like he planned on cleansing anytime in the next century, but we didn’t all have to follow his example.

Snagging the remainder of the chocolate for later, I made my decision, back straightening and jaw setting as I worked my way towards the bathroom.

><><><  

I was smashed.

I knew it.

The bartender knew it.

That girl sitting a few seats down and giving me weird looks knew it.

But I didn’t care, because there were four empty glasses decorating the bench in front of me, and the future was looking a hell of a lot brighter.  A little sparkly around the edges, even. Sort of like that feeling you get before you faint …

But bright. Bright was good. 

With a little groan, I dropped my head onto the bar, still clutching a steadily-warming fifth drink. This probably wasn’t entirely hygienic, but I was struggling to remember why that was even an issue. It was nice and cold and my head was real heavy but not anymore and all that made it a Good Thing.

A squealing of metal on wood alerted me to a chair being pushed about. Cracking open an eye, I lazily peered towards the source of the sound. It was the brunette girl who’d been eyeing me suspiciously since she’d sat down. She was moving now, leaving her seat as she threw a cautious glance back over her shoulder. She probably thought I was mental. Or a sexual predator.

I vaguely considered shouting after her that next to me was probably the safest place in this dive of a venue, seeing as I was neither gay nor mentally deficient, but it seemed like far too much effort and/or energy would be expended doing so. So instead I just let my eyelids fall shut once more, and buried my head deeper into my arms.

Be it seconds or hours later, someone else was pulling the recently-vacated chair back out, a sickeningly loud screech accompanying the action. Ugh. More people. Why were there so many people? This one was loud too, yelling across to the bartender in a voice that sounded like it had already consumed a fair amount of alcoholic beverage. With a defeated sigh, I forced my skull from its resting place, automatically taking a sip of my drink as I did so. It wasn’t tasting so great anymore. Smoke machines and strobe lights hadn’t done good things for a drink that had been low-brow to start with. 

The sound of a glass clanking onto the bench drew my attention, and I chanced a look at my new neighbour. They were silhouetted in dirty light, head tipped back with a drink brought to their lips. As the let the beverage fall back to earth, they turned a little towards me, and I couldn’t help but curse the gods once more.

Why?! Why me, why him, why here?

Because, of course, it was none other than Leo Valdez.

He hadn’t yet seen me, and I considered sprinting straight off the bat – get up and out quickly, so that even if he _did_ see me, he couldn’t do anything about it. But with my senses as dull as they were, I canned that plan pretty quickly. I’d be more likely to axe myself on one of the many flailing limbs that came hand in hand with dance floors.

There were numerous other escape routes that could probably have worked, if he hadn’t chosen that moment to check out just who his neighbour was. A casual glance in my direction, then he was turning back to his drink – until his brain caught up with his eyes and his spine went rigid. Slowly, he moved to stare at me.

                “N-Nico?” came the stammered question.

I didn’t even bother answering, raising my hand for another drink – I was going to need it - and staring sullenly ahead. Just how was I meant to react to this encounter? I still felt like flipping my shit and throwing things, but a) co-ordination, once again, and b) that’d sort of be an ass move after his obvious attempts to smooth things over. And hey, maybe I didn’t usually mind being an ass. But it just seemed like a hell of a lot of effort, even more so than putting up with the kid.

A new glass was slapped down in front of me, and I pushed the dregs of my old one aside in order to retrieve it. Taking a gulp, I waited for Leo to say something else. He was obviously still working through the shock of my appearance, staring into his tumbler like it held all the secrets of the universe.

When a few long minutes had passed and I was already halfway through my sixth drink, I decided to put both of us out of our misery and ask the necessary question.

                “So. What brings you here?” waving a hand at the sweaty bodies and smoky bar to make certain he knew just where I was referring to, I awaited my answer.

                “Uh. Well. I come here a lot, when … when I don’t have the greatest day. Generally –“ here he glanced back down at the amber liquid in his hand “- generally I don’t drink this much though.”

I hummed my understanding, unsure of whether he was telling the truth or just lying so as not to ruin his reputation. Not that I looked like someone who could judge; my current decorating choices made it clear that I knew where he was coming from. This wasn’t, admittedly, a common thing for me. The night before asides, I barely ever stepped foot in nightclubs. Too many people and not enough clothing.

Glancing back over at my companion, I looked him up and down. He cleaned up alright – a white dress shirt rolled up past his elbows, chinos, and … were they _suspenders?_ Gods, what a poser. How was he even drinking? He must’ve acquired a fake ID somewhere.

                “You are aware that underage drinking is somewhat illegal.” I pointed out, gesturing at his glass with my own.

A snort was my answer, and an eyebrow-raise was just visible in the dim light.

                “I’ll make sure to inform any minors I see.”

It took me a little longer than necessary to sort this all out in my head, expression collapsing into confusion as I realised the implications of his words.

                “Wait, so you’re not –“

                “Nope. Just how old do you think I am?”

Scratching the sweaty hair gathering at the nape of my neck, I considered this. I _had_ thought he was around eighteen, nineteen – he had the cocky, invincible demeanour of a teenager. Also the whole flirting-with-anything-that-moved had struck me with war-like flashbacks of my single, fateful year in college. But if he was old enough to legally drink … gods, that meant he was _my_ age.

                “Twenty one?” I ventured a guess.

With a smirk and a shake of his head, he dashed all of my preconceived notions about maturity and how when you became an adult you gained some.

                “Wrong. I’m twenty three this year.”

Twenty three? Twenty _three?!_ He was two fucking years older than I was. That was – gods, all this time I’d thought he was just a horny high school kid. But – but he was _old._

My internal turmoil was obviously evident in my expression, as he gave a half laugh, covering his snarky grin with a hand.

                “That bad, really? What, did you think I was younger than you?”

Unsure of just how much I could say without maddening him to the point where he decided his drink would be better spent tipped over my head than down his throat, I decided to go with a highly noncommittal answer.

                “Well, yeah you just seem …”

                “- immature? Underdeveloped? Short? Don’t worry buddy, I’ve heard them all. You needn’t fear offending me.”

This was awkward.

 Silence reigned once more, Leo’s grin slowly dying on his face as he turned back, curling in on himself in a way that made him seem oddly small and vulnerable. Raising my glass once more, I discovered – to my intense dismay – that somehow all of my beer had gone gods-know-where.

                “Fuck. I need another drink.”

The sound of the neighbouring chair shifting once again drew my attention back, to find that Leo had risen, staring awkwardly at his feet.

                “Well, uh, I should leave you alone. See you at work, I guess.”

I considered letting him go. Just let him walk out of there. Do it.

                “Hey, Valdez. Don’t put yourself out on my part. If you want to get drunk, I’m not stopping you.” Gods I was a fucking moron.

He’d halted as soon as he’d heard his name, slowly turning back towards me as I continued to speak. Standing near the gyrating throng such as he was, I couldn’t make out any facial expression, however when he spoke his voice was even.

                “Are you sure? Because I can easily go somewhere else.”

Mission Abort Mission Abort. Back the fuck up and retract your offer. Do it. So what if he looks weirdly sad and sorry; he brought it upon himself.

                “Yeah. I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t.”

Hesitant, he glanced back over his shoulder, back at the maddening crowd, his choice unclear and undecided. But it was only an instant, and then he was stepping his way closer, slipping into the stool he had so recently vacated and calling for another drink.

                “Well. If you _insist.”_

Gods, was I going to regret this in the morning when I was a little more sober and a little less sad. But, for the moment, I just wanted to pretend that this entire exercise was being conducted in the name of fun – rather than that of depression. 

><><><  

It was around the fifth drink that Leo started getting talkative. I would have named him a lightweight, if it hadn’t been for my overwhelming suspicion that he’d been more than a little tipsy before he even stepped foot inside. I’d slackened off, due to a severe case of detachment and room-spinning, but my drinks still seemed to magically disappear far more quickly than intended.

He was rambling about Piper and Jason at the moment; how they’d met, what good friends they were, some of the escapades they’d taken part in – the story he was currently recounting had all but turned into a laughing fit occasionally punctuated by the phrase ‘the sheep – oh gods, the sheep’. I think I’d been laughing too at some point, but now I was just looking at him, that good ‘ol detachment kicking back in and lending an omnipotent air to the whole affair.

Head thrown back, shoulders shaking, grin a mile wide. Leo was one of those people who gave everything they had into their expressions. Fingers dancing, hair flicking everywhere, liquid sloshing precariously in a jostled glass. He didn’t bother trying to be ‘chill’, and keeping up appearances didn’t seem to be a concept he would even relate too. Eyes closing, forehead crinkling, teeth flashing in the madness of the lights. It was sort of refreshing, and somewhat terrifying. He was funny though, to watch. The pure, unadulterated joy that he so often let show on his face was childlike, and it made me wonder if maybe _that_ was the real reason I messed up so much on the age issue.

                “What do you even see in me?”

The question was so blunt and off-topic that I surprised even myself. Leo was caught off kilter, expression confused, disconcerted, halfway to closed-off but not quite getting there.

“Why do you care?”

It was probably meant to sound defensive, but just came out as sad and a little angry. I pulled my shoulders up near my ears in reply, the gesture sloppy and stuttering.

                “I dunno man, we’re just so fucking different? I mean it’s a little weird.” 

A snigger and a snort and Leo was looking at me like we were five years old and I’d just made a toilet related joke.

                “Did you just call me man? Wow, you really are drunk.”

                “Mnmyeah so are you. You’re probably drunker than me.”

                “Nahhhh you’re being nice which means you _must_ be pretty off your face. I mean, you’re _never_ nice.”

Taken aback, I pulled away – at some place in the conversation I had leant forward until centimetres barely held us apart – and shook my head.

                “I’m nice. I’m nice lots. I mean, there was that time … there was that time when …”

Slowly, the realisation dawned on me that the only person I was ever really nice too was Percy. And by the end of us, those occurrences were few and far between. I really was a little bitch.

My expression must have been getting there on the ‘tortured’ scale, as Leo gave an effeminate giggle and slapped a hand across his mouth. Fuck, that man really had reached an entirely new level in terms of laughter. He was still grinning when he dropped it away, finger lazily dipping into his drink to swish it about.

                “Don’t worry. Just because you don’t do nice things, it doesn’t mean you’re not a nice person.”

I stared at him like he was a retard. He _was_ a retard.

                “Uh, duh. Yeah, it does.”

                “Wait, no, I needa rephrase that; just because you don’t do nice things, doesn’t mean you’re a junky person.”

                “Wow. You just said exactly the same thing in a more insulting manner. I’m impressed.”

 Hands flapping, an action that was more than a little distressing considering where those fingers had just been, Leo dismissed me.

                “Mnyeh. You know. You seem to think that just because you’re not always helping small children and rescuing kittens, you’re a bad person. But, well, yeah I don’t really know you that much so I can’t say for certain … but you seem pretty cool. Sorta, like … quiet and vaguely vampiric, but all that aside …”

 The question of whether to take this as a compliment or an insult came instantly into play, but I quickly dismissed with the decision of neither – simply a truthful statement. Sinking a little further forward, I countered with a declaration of my own.

                “Well, what about you? You always act so cheerful and shit, like ‘Oh look at that fucking flower isn’t it gorgeous I love the world’ but you never actually _seem_ properly happy.”

His grin faltered momentarily, but returned with a vengeance before I even had time to miss it.

                “Me, not ‘properly happy’? What about _you?_ I’m not the one who walks around everywhere like my favourite cat just died.” Dissertations about my face aside, he was obviously dodging the question. My drunken self chose to ignore the first obvious repartee that sprang to mind, instead going for something a little more soul searching but no less sarcastic.

                “Well yeah, that was mainly due to the fact that I hate my job and I was pretty sure my boyfriend was going to ditch me, but hey, at least you cleared up one of those issues – and if you get lucky, it might just take care of the other one too.”

The obvious mental process of ‘fuck. I fucked up.’ could be seen running across his face, an action that I was glad to know wasn’t specific to me alone. Mouth opening and closing in a remarkable expression of a goldfish I had once owned (Poor Persephone. May she rest in peace) Leo produced some vague stammers before lapsing back into silence.

Deciding it was probably alright to put him out of his misery now, I gave a shrug, raising my glass back to my lips for a small sip.

                “It’s really not your fault. It’d been coming for a while, you just … sped it up. Not that I can say I’m particularly happy about the entire affair. In fact, I’m still pretty fucking pissed and really trying not to dwell on it at the moment so if you don’t want me to start doing so you better stop avoiding the question and tell me why sometimes you look so goddam sad.”

I wasn’t even sure where all these words were coming from, but it seemed that absurd amounts of alcohol had unlocked my true potential as a Private Investigator, because now Leo was drawing back and setting his drink down on the bar and when the fuck did we get so close because now his knee was brushing against mine but I didn’t move because he was looking like someone who was about to start talking and gods know why but I wanted to hear him.

                “I don’t know. I guess I get … Lonely? I don’t know if that’s the right word. But yeah. I guess I get a little lonely sometimes.”

                “Bullshit. How could you get lonely? Everyone loves you only slightly less than Grace. I’ve had so many fucking people threaten to beat me up if I do anything to hurt you. You really wouldn’t believe – well, maybe you would.”

A small grin made its home on his lips, and he tilted his head to the side, hair moving in a curly brown waterfall.

                “Yeah. Everyone at work is great. But they’re really all I have, and they can get pretty busy sometimes. Especially since Piper and Jason made it official – they’ve both been off together a lot of the time, and I’m not generally invited.” With a grimace and a laugh that couldn’t even begin to rival those of earlier, he tried to diffuse the somewhat-depressing nature of this statement. But I knew that laugh. It was the I’m-not-really-that-sad-yeah-sure laugh. I’d practiced it often enough, until I’d decided that even that wasn’t worth the effort and taken up death staring instead.

                “What about family? Can’t you just go see them for a bit, or something?”

I knew I was gradually digging the grave deeper (whether it was his or my own, I still wasn’t entirely certain) but need to know had taken hold of me and wasn’t looking to let go any time soon. Maybe curiosity _had_ killed the cat, but I was just hoping that due to the fact that I was a mammal of superior intellect, I would get by alright.

                “I … don’t really have any family.”

… well.

Maybe not. Maybe it would just go and straight out obliterate me. Yep, that was always an option.

              “Oh, uh, shit sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories and shit.”

             “No, it’s … it wasn’t a recent thing. They both died in a house fire when I was young. I didn’t have any siblings or anything so I’ve gotten pretty used to it.”

Shit. Shit he had family issues too. This was bad; I shouldn’t have brought this topic up. Now he was going to ask about _my_ family, and I’d have to reveal that my life was even more of a classic still-suffering-from-past-hurts bad boy trope than he had originally assumed. But Leo didn’t say anything. He just stared down at his long fingers, tangled in his lap, with a faraway look in his eyes. The expression he wore was so fucking innocent and small and I sort of wanted to punch someone for forcing him to don it. Before I realised that this was my fault really and I was a shitty human being. So I started speaking – whether it was because I felt sorry for him, or out of some shitty sense of responsibility, I was unsure. But the words flowed, and I sat and told this surprisingly sad boy the story that worked so hard to keep to myself.

                “I don’t really have much family either. Like, I have my sister, Bianca – the one in Africa, so I suppose I got off a little luckier. But my father walked out on us just before I was born, and my Mom was killed in a freak lightning storm when I was ten. So … yeah, I get where you’re coming from. It’s pretty shitty, I know, and I also know that it’s not the sort of thing you get over or used to. And you shouldn’t have to pretend to.”

_I_ was staring down now, but I could almost _feel_ his eyes trained on me, the weight of his gaze pressing heavily upon my shoulders. Seconds flitted by, and I glanced up, my eyes locking with his across the divide. Understanding, and more than a little sad – I saw my feelings reflected upon his face. He got it – where I was coming from. He _understood_ just how it felt and just how hard it was to pretend that you couldn’t feel. Fucking hell, of all people. Maybe I had judged him a little too harshly.

As he sort of half-grined, lips curving up in a little crescent of a smile, I couldn’t help but notice once more that, up this close, his eyes were all caramel fleck and gold, rather than the boring flat brown I had first mistaken them for. They harmonised nicely with his hair, that dark, curly mass that would probably be quite soft if he washed it a little more. Really, he had a pretty nice face, all in proportion and everything. So maybe the eyes had a bit of a manic tilt to them, and maybe his nose had a weird bumpy bit in the middle, but it all worked together. In fact, he was almost handsoooo…..

Back up a fucking pace or two there di Angelo. 

Gods. I was _drunk_. Was I ever. This was – this was a new level of inebriated. Thinking about Valdez in an even vaguely attracted-capacity? _Valdez?_ I leant back so fast I almost sent my chair tumbling over.

                “Fuck. Fuck. I need to leave.”

The light in his eyes died out at my words, and I wanted to kick a small animal, but my self-preservation instincts were stronger an I was already on my feet and staring over at him.

                “It’s been; gods, well, it’s been an experience. I’m … fuck it, I’m glad, I guess. Sorry for being a dick before.” He was looking at me again, and I could see the grin creeping its way back. With a nonchalant shrug, he gave his reply.

                “I was going to protest that you weren’t a dick – but you really were. Are. But hey. We can put that behind us if you can ignore my … advance.”

                “Oh gods. Gods yes.” That was one experience I would be more than happy to bury deep. Very, very deep.

With a chuckle, Leo slid out from his chair to stand before me, bringing to my attention the fact that the height between us was barely centimetres. Firmly extending a hand, he watched for my reaction. I glanced at the proffered limb, mentally weighing up options before going with a ‘Fuck it. It’s not like I can screw up any more than I already have.’ and clasping his hand with my own. It was warm, large and somewhat rough. His grip was firm, as he shook my hand once, then softly let go, none of that lingering-for-a-second-too-long business.

It was obvious our relationship had changed; large amounts of beer and repressed feelings did that to a person. I wasn’t sure to what extent, and what the implications of that would be. But as I gave him a half wave, slowly making my way towards the exit, I couldn’t help but be glad. 

><><><  

My movements were sloppy as I slid the key into the lock, bumping it once, twice, against the edge before success. Hearing the ‘click’ of triumph, I sighed, leaning forward to bump my skull gently against the wood, a moments rest. Feeling as my eyelids drooped, my hands searched for the handle, turning it swiftly and swinging inwards with the door. I fumbled for the light switch as I scrubbed the back of a hand across my eyes, yawning widely all the while. Victory sent a flare of brightness piercing through my skull, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the sudden harshness. With the feeling of one who’d been heavily drugged, I dragged my shoes off and secluded them in the corner, keys falling to join them.

Yawning once more, I stumbled my way to the bedroom, eyes not nearly sharp enough to avoid the many obstacles that littered the ground. Stopping momentarily to peer at the clock, then accepting that I would never be able to decipher the numbers that danced before my eyes, I turned away – only to come spinning back, senses instantly alert.

There was a person on my couch. There was a person on my couch and he had golden skin and dark curly hair and I knew that if he opened his eyes they would be the same colour as the sea at sunrise. There was a Percy on my couch.

Why the fuck was there a Percy on my couch.

Heart thudding, I felt my chest grow tighter as the gladiators that were my emotions fought it out inside me. Was I happy? Angry? Scared? Or all of the above? Gods, I wasn’t even sober enough to form a coherent thought – and I had in no way been prepared for _this._ What was he even _doing_ here? Had – had he come to say sorry?

How would I react if he had?

 Ah fuck, I wasn’t in a good condition for this sort of concentration. Vaguely entertaining the idea of just leaving him there until I was sober - which could take a week or two at the least - I decided that prolonging the agony wouldn’t do anything to enhance my mental state.

 Haltingly, I crossed the metres between us, until I found myself at his side. Shit; now came the next issue. How the fuck did I wake him up? I wasn’t anyway inclined to be gentle about it, but socking him just didn’t seem entirely politically correct. Extending a digit, I prodded firmly at his forehead. A vague murmuring and fluttering of eyelids was my only response.

Repeating the action, albeit with a little more force, I watched as his eyes snapped open and he bolted upright. His hair was squished flat on his left, and it took conscious effort to ignore the tinge that ran through me at the sight of it.

 Rubbing his eyes, Percy blinked blearily, gazing up at my face. As soon as his brain caught up with the rest of him, he shot to a standing position, shoulders tense and hands fisted against his thighs.

                “Oh, Nico. I didn’t hear you come in.”

Too impatient to wait for the exchanging of pleasantries that usually preceded awkward conversations, I dove right into the crux of the issue.

                “Percy. What are you doing here?”

With a sheepish grin that all but wrenched my heart in half, he rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that was just so _Percy_ that it physically hurt.

                “Oh, ah. I just … came to return my key. And … to say that I’m sorry and I shouldn’t have blamed you. I see now that you were probably telling the truth and I just overreacted.”

As I processed this information – an apology? An apology _and_ an admittance that he was in the wrong? Percy was pulling his hands back down to rifle through his pockets. He emerged after a few moments with a shining silver object. Laying it flat in the palm of his hand, he offered it, awaiting the inevitable. I knew that, in a way, that this was the true end. Taking this meant revoking his rights to my personal space, meant that we were suddenly separated by things like locks and doors. 

I drew back the hand that had been reaching for the proffered object, thoughts racing. Did I really want this to end? I had put three years of my life into this relationship – wasn’t this just throwing all that time away? But no matter the questions that called to me, I felt weirdly at peace with my decision. Plucking the key from his hand, I clasped it in my own, feeling the cool metal bite into my palm as I curled fingers about it.

                “We can still be friends … right?”

It wasn’t a question I often found myself asking - hell, I’d have to _have_ friends in the first place if I was going to invoke that query – but I didn’t want us to part ways on a low note. Sure, Percy and I had irreconcilable differences, and therefore some major issues in our relationship; we were both headstrong, but we had lived such different lives, and our personalities had been shaped in such different ways. But even if we had been doomed from the get go, I didn’t regret the years with him; not at all. He had been such a major part of my life, teaching me that it was okay to trust in others, and that they sometimes _wanted_  you to do so. And if it could happen, I wanted our relationship to continue, albeit in a different configuration.

Percy answered with a gentle expression, hands tying themselves into knots as he looked into my eyes.

                “Of course. I’d prefer that, honestly. You’re a great guy Nico, and I know that even though we weren’t really good for one another, you always did your best to work things out. So yeah, thanks.”

Leaning in, a little awkward, he extracted his hands from one another long enough to reach out and pat me on the shoulder.

                “Maybe I’ll come check in at your work sometime … if you’re staying there?”

Was I? I didn’t have any reason to now, with my motivation gone. However, the thought of just packing up and fucking off had somewhat lost its attraction. Annabeth didn’t deserve that, none of them did … Not even Leo. Pushing aside all thoughts of the barista and what I was/wasn’t feeling towards him, I turned back to the situation at hand.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“Well, uh, cool then. I guess I’ll give it a week or two, wait for things to settle down, then I might pay a visit. Hopefully, uh, it’s a little less … eventful than my first one.”

“Hopefully.”

The awkward silence spread like a blanket over the scene, as I wondered whether Percy really had calmed down and realised that there legitimately was nothing going on between Leo and I. Gods know that my continued presence in the place wouldn’t do anything for his suspicions. Well. It wasn’t his issue anymore, I supposed.

So when he shuffled out of the door with his hands thrust in his pockets and a somewhat wistful expression on his face, I was glad that he wasn’t shuffling out of my life altogether.

And then, of course, I almost fell over and ended up prone on the couch because I was still practically drowning in alcohol and emotions and the only solution to both issues was sleep.

><><><  

The next few days was a confusion of headaches and shopping trips, of aspirin and half-priced birthday cakes that called sadly to my fevered mind as I haunted the aisles of the local supermarket. I was still hazy for a little, and swore off alcohol in all forms. I couldn’t remember the night in its entirety, but I knew for sure that I’d had some weird-ass thoughts about Leo Valdez, an issue that I was doing my best not to dwell on. But my four-day respite was soon over, and next thing I knew I was pulling on a clean-ish shirt and stuffing my apron in my bag as I readied myself for an experience that I faced with a mixture of trepidation and … expectation?

There was a sense of déjà vu as I pushed the door open to see Leo at the coffee machine, fingers dancing across the buttons. Piper was almost exactly where I had seen her my first day too, chatting to a customer as she handed over a tray of cakes. Jason stood at the counter, broad grin stretching across his face as he took orders and cash. An idyllic scene of camaraderie and public service – but did I really belong here?  
I still wasn’t sure, but when Leo glanced up and caught my eye with a grin, I gave him a little half-smile back.

><><><  

For the next few months, work itself continued apace; the café goers never seemed to tire of the menu, and it almost got to the point where I could remember the orders of regulars on sight. It was on one of our slower days that one such regular made a reappearance, bringing a surprise along with her.  

Hazel hadn’t been around much recently, a fact that had been both noticed and pointed out by Jason. She was the girl who put booth three to the most use – she was in there every second day. Through the foible of Piper, I discovered that the person she was constantly conversing with was her boyfriend, who was currently in China, travelling with his grandmother in order to ‘connect to his roots’, or whatever it was she’d said.

So when Hazel suddenly disappeared for a week and a half, Jason was so surprised that he even went so far as too ask Annabeth if we could try and find her to check that everything was okay. He needn’t have bothered however; no longer than two days after Annabeth had laughed his proposal off and told him he should stop worrying so much, the girl herself materialised with another in tow.

Leo and I were out the front at the time – Annabeth had been called away by the owner of the store, some ‘Mr D’, who’d been complaining how something or other was wrong, for about the eighteenth time this week.  I didn’t really mind, as Leo and I’s relationship had progressed in leaps and bounds since our drunken revelations. Just before we were interrupted by the door bell, he’d been stubbornly telling me that I needed to put my shirts on right-way-out. Which, yeah, was a fair enough point – but it wasn’t like I was going to admit that or anything. So, instead, I countered with a comment about how he should probably try and wash his hair more, often and tried to completely ignore the fact that his smile was infectious and almost _cute._

When Hazel stepped inside, he bounced up from where we had been leaning against the counter, a winning smile sailing in her direction.

                “Hey! Hazel – long-time no see! Jason was concerned.”

The girl in question pushed a mass of tight curls back from her face with a grin. 

                “He worries way too much. I can take care of myself.”

I, however, wasn’t focusing on this exchange. Rather, I was gazing up at the brawny Asian who towered behind her. He was tall, probably taller than Jason even, and looked like he had about twice the muscle mass – solid across the shoulders and jaw and everywhere else, judging by the way his beige, horse-emblazoned shirt strained across his chest.  

That must be the boyfriend.

Not exactly what I had pictured.

He looked like some sort of model/bodybuilder. Comparing his frame to his girlfriend’s stocky but short proportions was humorous, to say the least.

Well opposites attract and all that shit, so I just gave him a wavering smile and hoped that he wouldn’t beat me up. The grin I got in return, however, was warm and almost a little shy. As Hazel introduced us (she had to ask my name, but I assured her that there was no offence taken and really I was used to it) it became somewhat apparent that _she_ was the more confident of the two of them.

For once, Hazel got to sit outside, in the sun with the other couples, as the two of them exchanged shy, loving glances and laughter. I found myself watching Leo watch them, his elbows propped up on the counter and a dreamy beam settled across his face. His hair had been getting even longer than usual lately, and he’d taken the gathering it up into a tiny little bump of a ponytail. It never lasted very long though, curls spilling out to bounce about his cheeks as he worked.

I was weirdly attracted to him, and that was a fact that I couldn’t deny any longer. If I’d only gotten my head out of my ass earlier on in the piece, maybe I could have avoided the way Percy and I’s relationship had ended. I saw now, why my previous boyfriend might have made assumptions – to look at, Leo was everything I found aesthetically pleasing. Tan, slim but toned, with dark, curly hair – the description could be used just as easily for Percy himself. It was completely different on the Latino, however – the curve of his eyes, the subtle point to his ears, made him look more like an escapee elf than a land-locked mermaid.

The mermaid in question hadn’t gotten any less attractive since our breakup – he’d made an appearance a few times in the past months. The first had been a little awkward, as he’d assured me that he had to apologise to Leo. I’d stood nervously in the background, fidgeting with my apron as the two of them exchanged requests for forgiveness. Next came introductions – Grover was more than happy to finally get Percy in his domain, and even though Annabeth came to shoo everyone out of the kitchen, she was grinning as she did so. Jason and Percy had hit it off straight away, appearing to form what Leo referred to as ‘ a bromance to last the ages’. Piper, too, had found him engaging, and acknowledged to me afterwards that I had good taste.

The entire situation was absurdly awkward, but carried with it a sense of unrealism that infused an air of hilarity into the entire proceedings. Here I was, introducing my ex-boyfriend to the people who had helped to drive a significant wedge between us – and yet, I felt the happiest I had in a long time.

It appeared to be obvious to others too; during my weekly calls with Bianca, she had made successive comments about how great it was that I was looking happier. The woman herself was heading back soon – only another month and her group would be returning to America. She had confessed to me that, while she loved the work she was doing, she looked forward to being home once more.

But it was my interactions with The Leomeister that had changed the most significantly. In the space of almost a night, he’d gone from the asshole who had ruined my relationship to the confused man who understood my past maybe more than nearly anyone else. Getting my head around that change had been a little difficult, but I’d taken it slowly. Now, however … I wasn’t sure where we stood. I would definitely consider him a friend (the knowledge of this fact most likely would have killed me if I had been aware of it when we first met), and I felt that he would say the same.

As for anything more … we saw each other almost every second day – Annabeth _had_ been advertising more job positions, but while interest had been expressed, nothing had gone through. The two of us talked, laughed, made fun of one another.  But I wasn’t really happy with that anymore.  There were moments, when he was saying something stupid and ended up laughing at himself, that I felt like leaning in and kissing the smile off his face. He would let me, I knew that – while there had been no mention of romance nor emotions since that day nearly over two months ago, I often felt his gaze on me, lingering a moment too long. The cheesy pick-up lines and stupid excuses to brush by me where gone altogether, but there were still moments when hands would bump and mumbled apologies would be doled out.

I was stopped from fleshing out my fantasies, however, by an odd restraint. I didn’t want to mess up our friendship. I couldn’t help but remember the fact that it hadn’t even been three months since we were at one another’s throats, and wondered just how easy it would be to slip back into that pattern.

Detecting my gaze with that weird sixth-sense he seemed to possess, Leo tilted his head in my direction, smirking as he spoke.

                “Enjoying the view?”

Ah fuck, hitting a little close to home there. Raising an eyebrow, I shoved my hands into my pockets, wearing my best nonchalant expression.

                “Yeah, you wish.”

I’m sure that further snarkiness would have ensued, had Grover not rushed out from the kitchen at that moment.

                “Guys, is Annabeth still out?”

Taking in his somewhat panicked tone and the wad of reddening tissues pressed against his hand, I wondered just what was going on.

                “Yeah … she probably won’t be back for a while. Mr D likes to take as long as possible to sort these things out.” Leo’s answer seemed to calm him somewhat, expression losing a little of its panicked edge.

                “Cool then. That’s good. Come with me, hey?” beckoning with his non-injured hand, he turned and trotted back towards the door from whence he had come. When he realised that neither of us were following, he glanced back and urged us once more.

                “Come on!”

Leo and I shared a look, eyes locking in mutual curiosity and/or internal turmoil.

                “We really can’t leave the counter unattended.” I pointed out, knowing full well that it needed to be said.

                “Yeah …” came my reply. “That’s be highly irresponsible.”

Silence for a few moments. Then:

                “Shoot, let’s go.”

Bonded in joint rebellion, we followed the cook, glancing over shoulders to check that none of the customers were aware of our desertion. Travelling through the door and into the kitchen, we found Grover standing at the back exit, the doorway to the alley were we dumped all our rubbish and shit.

                “Come on!” he hollered once again, feet tapping against the floor. “If we don’t hurry, it might be gone!”

It? What on earth _was_ he talking about? I was slowly piecing the puzzle together as I joined him at the exit, door thrown open to let in a ‘whoosh’ of warm outside air. Slipping into the sunlight, Grover, Leo and I all congregated at the dumpster, one of us gazing around with searching eyes, the other two awaiting answers.

                “Okay guys, the reason I brought you out here is … well I was chucking out the flour boxes, and then there was this _cat,_ just hiding under the dumpster. It looked pretty scrawny, so I decided, ‘ hey, mays well bring it in and give it somethin to drink’ but when I picked it up, it scratched me pretty bad.” Brandishing his claw marks, the blood now slowed to sluggish beading along the edges, he peered at us expectantly. 

                “Sooo … basically we’re the new sacrificial offering?”

Yep, a good dose of humour was just what this gathering needed. Now all that was left was a healthy spoonful of sarcasm …

                “Yeah, that’s definitely it. You called upon us under the guise of needing help, but our _true_ purpose is death.”

Grover rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘why don’t you two just bang already’ (a comment that may or may not have leant a tinge of pink to my cheeks), but chose to go with the more politically correct. “C’mon, just help me out here.”

Hands flying upwards in a gesture of surrender, Leo gave a hefty shrug.

                “Whatever, whatever. Where has the little katten gone now?”

                “I’m not sure …” hunching down, Grover peered under the dumpster, gaze probing. “I can’t really see it anywhere …”

His sentence came to an abrupt halt as a tiny ball of fur shot out from under the bin, spitting and clawing, latching onto his shoulder. Sent over backwards in surprise, Grover landed on his ass with an ‘oof’ eyes wide as that cat scrambled up towards his face.

                “Get it off! Get it off!” came his cry, and then Leo was rushing forward like the white knight that he was, seizing that cat by the scruff of its neck. Paws scratching violently at the air, it whined and writhed in his grip. Scrambling to his feet, Grover moved hurriedly away from the creature, gaze wary.

                “I’ll uh – I’ll just head back inside and check that there isn’t anyone out front. Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Without giving time for a comeback, he scurried back though the door, shutting it on my cries of “Hey! You can’t do that! You’re the one who wanted it!”

I turned back with a sigh, only to witness Leo yelping as the cat landed one on him, grip releasing and sending it darting back to its hiding place. Gazing at the set of red lines dancing their way along the back of his hand, he stuck out a bottom lip, then turned towards me.

                “I have to have it. It’s so cute. I need it.”

Gods, if we’re talking _cute_ , the cat wasn’t even in with a chance of winning. He was giving me the fucking _puppy dog eyes._ With that little bottom lip poking out and the ‘I might just cry if you don’t give me what I want’ expression – fuck, I was powerless.

Cursing my stupid weakness, I drew a hand across my face with a sigh.

                “Alright, alright. I’ll go get something to lure it out – some tissues for your hand too. You stay out here and make sure it doesn’t run off, okay?”

Expression transforming with the force of a sun emerging from clouds, Leo shot me a bright grin that all but melted me then and there. Turning quickly in an attempt to hide the fact that my face was read and my palms were sweaty, I quickly crossed to the doorway. Pushing it open, I continued through, the door in question swinging shut behind me with a soft click. Now standing inside the kitchen, I gazed around, wondering where the tissues were. I spied the box sitting near the sink; obviously from when Grover had retrieved them to treat his own injury. Snagging the box, I pondered just where the cook had gone. Cracking the door to the front of the store open, I glanced out surreptitiously. Ah, there he was – held up at the counter by a happy little group of customers. Hmph, served him right.

Turning back to the empty room, I made my way to the fridge, momentarily discarding the tissues to slide open the large stainless steel door. Shivering as the frosty air danced its way out to nip at my nose, I darted inside to retrieve a carton of milk sitting atop one of the shelves. Sliding it back shut, I rubbed at the goosebumps on my arms, moving to set the milk on a messy bench. Retrieving a bowl, I whipped up a gorgeous delicacy that would tempt any cat (i.e. an incredibly complex saucer of milk) and regained the box of tissues. I was ready.

Leo was still watching the dumpster when I reappeared, gaze firmly fixed on his goal; or, at least, where it rested. Glancing up, he made grabby hands at the box of tissues when he noticed it. Handing it over as I carefully balanced the milk, I crouched down to lay the saucer at the edge of the darkness.

                “Here cat. Come on.”

Tissue-bandage firmly in place, Leo joined me, his cries a little more involved.

                “Caaatt come to papa. Come on. Come on! You know you want toooo.”

Whether it was the lure of food, or simple curiosity about the strange sounds emanating from our mouths (I was somewhat confused too) next thing we knew, the cat came slinking slowly out. It was a scrap of a thing, fur shaggy and sides skinny. It was patchy coloured, black and cream and brown all mixed together. Staring up at us with large blue eyes, it cautiously extended a paw further, continuing the journey to the saucer. We were both quiet now, watching for its next action. Finally deciding the risk was worth it, it dashed the next metre, sticking its nose into the bowl like it was afraid we might steal the food away. Leo made a little ‘oh’ of surprise as it lapped the milk up, and I glanced over to find that he was leaning forward in anticipation.

It really was pretty cute, all things considered.

I wasn’t entirely sure whether my current thoughts were in reference to the cat or Leo himself, but I decided to go with the least mentally draining option and assume that I have suddenly developed deep affection for my newfound feline friend.

The barista cautiously extended his hand, fingertips reaching out to hover just above the arch of the animals’ back. Tentatively, he lowered them to brush against its fur. I could see the creature tense, and waited for the inevitable run-and-maul – but it obviously decided that sustenance was far too valuable to throw away. Leo was obviously pleased with this end result, murmuring sweet nothings as he petted it, grin fixed firmly in place.

When its beverage was finally consumed, the cat decided to take a little more notice of the hand stroking down it’s back. Ears pricking, it swivelled its head about to gaze at the tan limb which even now ran across its spine. Butting it’s head against the offending object, its mouth opened to produce a few pitiful mews that set us both ‘nawww’ing (albeit internally on my part). When the purring started, I was forced to question all my beliefs about cats and just how much noise they could make. The thing had a set of vocal cords on it alright – the sound it produced sounded like a fucking jet take off.

                “Gods. We probably look really stupid right about now.”

Leo’s voice cut through my feline-musings, as I realised just how truthful the statement was. Here we were, two grown-ass men (appearances and assumptions beside) crouched in an alleyway cooing over a kitten.

Not your average fairy tale.

Cracking a grin, I raised my shoulders and my eyebrows as I brushed off the negativity. That was something I’d been trying – It didn’t always work (it didn’t usually work) but hey, it was the thought that counted.

                “We probably look stupid a large quantity of the time. Well, you do, at least.”

                “Hey. I reject that out of hand. I look _welcoming._ Big difference there pal.”

When the silence lapsed back it was a little awkward. Or maybe that was just me, and my futile attempts to not think about the way the neckline of his shirt had shifted a decent distance to the right and the shitload of collarbone that exposed.

Which, of course, I hadn’t noticed. That would be weird. And … unacceptable.

                “You know what I’ve been wondering?”

Leo’s tone was almost shy – an abnormal occurrence – and quiet enough that I had to rock forward in order to hear his words. A little thrill ran through me as I wondered at all the possible way that sentence could end (mainly because a large quantity of them were very gay and inappropriate to dwell on in polite company) but I quashed it down and managed to get my voice flat enough for only a single stammer.

                “Y-yes what?”

…

No answer, and I was just opening my mouth to repeat the question when he huffed the sentence out in a single breath, like he was doing so against his better judgement.

                “Whetherornotyourhairisassoftasthiscat.”

It took me a few moments to decipher his comment, but as soon as I did I could feel the blood rush to my face. Well that was – that was certainly a way to get a guy.

But how did I respond? To be witty or reserved or enthusiastic?

                “Uh. I don’t know. It’s not often that I compare my hair to cat fleece.”

… _or_ I could just sound like a complete and utter douche bag.

I saw his face fall a little at my reply (of course it fell, I sounded like I was basically telling him to shove his wondering up where the sun don’t shine) and quickly scurried to fix that sad little expression.

                “Ah shit, I didn’t – fuck I didn’t mean it like that. You’ve got to understand that I’m really bad at people and basically just … this.” gesturing between us, I prayed to the gods that he would catch my drift and not force me to mumble any further on the topic.

                “But like I mean … if you really wanna know just … go ahead.”

Hollly fuck did I just offer to let him touch my hair? Really? _Really?_

Way to go me. Nico di Angelo, king of seduction, was in the house. Move the fuck over guys and let him take his place as ruler of the universe.

But Leo had glanced up at me, and it was clear by the sparkle in his eyes and the grin bubbling up onto his cheeks that he had grasped the theme behind my garbled apology.

                “Are you – are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Not trusting my speech, knowing full well that I’d just make a further ass of myself, I gave a terse nod and tried to look as sullen as I possibly could with a complexion like a radioactive tomato.

                “Aw frick yeah man!” the emphatic announcement startled me a little, as, thrusting his fist in the air, Leo gave a remarkably good Statue-of-Liberty impression, minus a torch and multiplied by cat.

                “Holy Hades is this legit? I am _in_!”

He was leaping to his feet now, heels clicking in a little jig as he bounced up and down, his entire being _buzzing_ and fingers drumming out staccato rhythms on his thighs. With a smirk and a finger gun that brought back far too many memories, he addressed his next statement to me.

                “Frick, I knew it. I knew from the moment that we saw each other that it was going to happen. You can’t deny the Leomeister and his sixth sense! I know these things!”

I was laughing now but I did my best to hide it by dropping my head in my hands and forcing out a groan. it looked like The Leomeister was back, in all his lady-killing (man-killing?) glory.

                “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” I mumbled into my collar. He didn’t miss it though, as he came flying to my side, the cat following after him with tiny footsteps and curious mews.

                “Hell yeah. But I’m _your_ idiot now.”

I most likely would have groaned a little more and maybe punched him, if he hadn’t chosen that moment to lean even further in and ruffle my hair. It struck me then just how close we were, me with my legs at my chest and him kneeling only centimetres away. His hand in my hair, I could feel his breath upon my face, warm and dry. Glancing up, our eyes locked together, a contrast of browns and blues. The golden tone of his skin seemed to flash in the sunlight, which beamed through his hair to make it a halo of bronze. Fuck, he was beautiful. So maybe the bridge of his nose was too high, and maybe his left eye was a little out of line with his right. But right now he looked like a beaten bronze statue, a tribute to the gods, and he was gorgeous.

The hand in my hair was more stroking now, drawing down closer to my face, fingers looped through silken strands, curling around and around and around until they rested flat against my cheek, fire on ice. Close as he was, he surely heard the small sigh that emanated from me, and he certainly noticed as I leant into the touch.

We both moved carefully, cautiously, neither of us wanting to fuck this up, his other hand reaching with grasping fingers to curl behind my neck as my own arms came up to encircle him, pull him in, close this godforsaken gap between us.

Legs sliding down, I tugged him forward, feeling taut muscle pressing back into my fingertips. I could sense the heat emanating from him, leeching into my bones, making me warmer than I had ever thought was humanely possible. He was obviously feeling the inverse – with a giggle, he murmured something about just how cold I was. It didn’t last long though, because I, in all my impatience, was leaning forward to brush my lips gently against his, a buzz of cool flesh upon warm. Eyes still firmly locked together, I saw the slight widening that accompanied my gesture – whether he had been under the impression that I was still joking about, I wasn’t sure.

Hopefully now he would understand that I was actually pretty into him, and move this shit the fuck along.

I needn’t have worried – his lips came searching for mine in no time at all, mouths slanting against one another, gentle, soft, like silent whispers being exchanged. Heart pounding in my chest like I was running a marathon, and thoughts swirling together into a maelstrom of warmth and fuzzy feelings that I usually chose not to associate with myself, I somehow managed to summon up the realisation that this was much more enjoyable than our previous encounters.

And when my tongue danced out to run across his bottom lip and he let his mouth open without a second thought, I vaguely considered the very real possibility that I was going to spontaneously combust.

So when the cat decided it wasn’t being loved enough and that is therefore needed to claw its way up Leo’s back to get in on the action, I only _slightly_ wanted to strangle it to death. As the two of us broke apart, Leo yelping and swatting as claws dug into his shoulders,  I felt vaguely like stabbing a bitch but instead settled with giving the cat my best death stare. Leo too, looked somewhat irritated, and a little pained, but he rubbed the things head anyway. When he saw my expression, he laughed, eyes crinkling and head tilting to the side in a way that gave me motherfucking butterflies.

                “Oh, don’t be jealous. It’s not like we can’t continue whenever we want.”

Why yes. That was true, wasn’t it? _‘Whenever we want.’_ – the words danced like music through my skull.

Whether it was fate or the gods or simply an untrue statement made by coffee-marketing Asians that had brought us together, I couldn’t help but feel absurdly thankful.

Because my job was fucking great.


End file.
